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THE CROWN OF PINE 


I 




The Fountain of Peirene, Corinth 


THE 

CROWN OF PINE 


A STORY 

OF CORINTH AND THE ISTHMIAN GAMES 


By the 

REV. A. J. CHURCH, M.A. 

Formerly Professor of Latin in University College, London 
Author of “ Stories from Homer,” etc. 


With Illustrations by 

GEORGE MORROW 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
1 53— 1 57 Fifth Avenue 
1906 





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o 

Os- 


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TO MY RELATIVE AND FRIEND, 

Richmond Seeley, 

in remembrance of many kindnesses. 










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PREFACE 

I have transferred to the Isthmian Games, of 
which we know very little, some details of the 
proceedings at the great festival of Olympia. 
In the other parts of the story I have en- 
deavoured to keep as closely as possible to what 
is known, or, at least, probable. The chron- 
ology of St. Paul’s life is very uncertain ; but 
the date which I have chosen is, I believe, 
accepted by some writers. In any case I may 
plead the licence allowed to the exigencies of 
fiction. 

Ightham, A. J. C. 

August , 1905. 


7 



LIST OF CONTENTS 


CHAP. PAGE 

I. The First of the Wheat Ships . . 13 

II. In the Jews’ Quarter . . 23 

III. Archias of Corinth 40 

IV. A Bread Riot 47 

V. A Desperate Defence .... 56 

VI. Seneca -67 

VII. In the Circus, and Afterwards ... 76 

VIII. The Proclamation 85 

IX. An Exiled Nation 93 

X. The Imperial Pass 101 

XI. The Gallinarian Wood .... 107 

XII. Eastward Bound . . . .118 

XIII. Corinth 124 

XIV. A Young Champion 129 

XV. Paul of Tarsus 137 


9 


List of Contents 


CHAP. 

XVI. 

A Secret .... 


. 

PAGE 

153 

XVII. 

Jew and Greek 


• 

158 

XVIII. 

Cleonice .... 


• 

I 7 I 

XIX. 

Plots ..... 


• 

179 

XX. 

A Drug .... 


• 

193 

XXI. 

An Antidote 


• 

I98 

XXII. 

Fresh Plots 


• 

207 

XXIII. 

Among the Hills 


• 

2l6 

XXIV. 

Before the Archon 


. 

224 

XXV. 

A Dilemma .... 


. 

234 

XXVI. 

Cleon id to the Rescue 


. 

24I 

XXVII. 

The Release 


. 

246 

XXVIII. 

Under Cover of the Lav, 


• 

258 

XXIX. 

The Games .... 


. 

265 

XXX. 

The Casket .... 


. 

276 

XXXI. 

Rewards and Punishments 


. 

286 

XXXII. 

Back to Rome 



293 


10 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Corinth, and the Fountain of Peirene 
The First of the Wheat Ships 
Attack on the Jew’s House 
Priscilla and Manilla 
The Rescue of Cleonice 
Ariston Riding out of Corinth 
Eubulus in the hands of the Brigands 
The Long Foot Race at the Isthmus 


Frontispiece 


16 

/ 

• 64 

/, 

108 

J 

. 176 

J 

. 2,4 

y 

. 256 

✓ 

• 2 74 

1 / 


II 



CHAPTER I 

The First of the Wheat Ships 

The time is an hour or so after sunrise on the fif- 
teenth of May in the year 50 of our era ; the place 
is one of the piers of the Emperor Claudius’s new 
harbour at Ostia. Two men, whose dress and 
features show them plainly enough to be Jews, 
are watching the ship which is slowly moving 
shoreward under a press of sail. 

“ Your eyes are better than mine, Raphael,” 
says the elder of the two to his companion. “ Can 
you make her out ? ” 

“ Scarcely yet, father,” replied the young man. 
He had scarcely spoken, however, when the pass- 
ing of a cloud let a brilliant ray of sunshine fall on 
the vessel’s bow. “ There, there,” cried Raphael 
ben Manasseh — this was the young man’s name — 
“ I can distinguish The Twin Brothers .” 

“ Accursed idols ! ” growled Manasseh, spitting 
on the ground as he spoke. 

Raphael shrugged his shoulders, casting at the 
same time an apprehensive glance around him. 

13 


The First of the Wheat Ships 

“ Don’t you think, father,” he said in a depreca- 
tory voice, “ that it might make a little awkward- 
ness, if any people happened to be near ? And if 
we charter these people’s ships, might we not put 
up with their ways ? ” 

“ Well, well, you youngsters are all for compro- 
mise and peace. I often wish that I was well away 
from this land of abomination. Dear Hebron ! 
I can’t think what made me leave thee.” 

“ Business very slack there, I take it,” mur- 
mured Raphael. “ I doubt whether one could 
find a hundred shekels in the whole place ? But 
see, sir,” he went on, “ they are lowering a boat ; 
a good thing too, or we might be loitering here 
till noon.” 

While father and son are waiting, with what 
patience they can summon, the arrival of the boat, 
we may explain the situation. The ship, which 
bears the name and sign of The Twin Brothers , to 
become famous afterwards for carrying a very dis- 
tinguished passenger , 1 was the first of the great 


1 “ We departed in a ship of Alexandria which had wintered in 
the island, whose sign was Castor and Pollux,” says the writer of 
the Acts, after describing St. Paul’s stay in the island of Melita 
(Malta). The Greek has Dioscuri, literally “ Lads of Zeus,” 
the Twin Brothers, whose names in their Latinized form were 
Castor and Pollux. It was a common sign of ships, which were 
supposed to be under the special piotection of the two demi- 

14 


The First of the Wheat Ships 

fleet of wheat ships which would be making the 
passage between Alexandria and Ostia during the 
navigating season of the year. Their arrival was an 
event of no little importance. For some months 
past there had been much speculation in Rome and 
elsewhere in what are now called “ futures 5 ’ in the 
slang of the corn market. Even in these days, 
when the system of communication is so complete, 
the estimates of a crop that has yet to be gathered 
in differ not a little. Interested parties are 
influenced more than they know by their 
hopes and fears. Sellers talk gloomily, buyers 
are correspondingly sanguine. This year the 
prospects were more than usually uncertain. 
The Nile of the previous season had been in- 
different , 1 but certainly significant of scarcity 
rather than plenty. The weather, too, during 
the harvest had been less consistently fine than 
usual. Altogether the chances were greatly in 

gods ; so Horace, praying that the ship which is carrying Virgil to 
Greece may have a prosperous voyage, says — 

“ May those twin stars, fair Helen’s brothers, guide thy course, 
O ship, with ray serene.” 

1 The Egyptian harvest of any particular year depends upon 
the height to which the Nile has risen the year before. It was 
commonly reckoned that a Nile of less than eighteen feet above 
the winter level — the Nile begins to rise in May — meant 
scarcity and even famine ; that five and twenty meant abund- 


ance. 


15 


The First of the Wheat Ships 

favour of an increased price, and the Jewish 
corn merchants at Rome, who combined in a 
way that gave them a great advantage over their 
Gentile rivals, had acted accordingly. Manasseh, 
who was the wealthiest member of the syndicate, 
and had a predominant interest in its speculations, 
had journeyed to Ostia to get the earliest infor- 
mation. In spite of his sentimental recollections 
of his peaceful birthplace, he was a very keen man 
of business. Nothing, one may be sure, would 
have been a more unwelcome change than to 
leave his highly speculative business in Rome to 
take up again the cultivation of his ancestral 
acres, cherished as the thought of them was in 
what may be termed a different compartment 
of his soul. 

The boat had now reached the pier. It 
carried two men in the stern. One of them 
who held the rudder lines was the captain, who 
was also a part owner. He was a thick-set man 
of middle age, a Corsican by birth, who might 
have sat for the portrait of one of the brigands 
of his native island. Just then, however, he was 
on his best behaviour. Manasseh was his very 
good friend and partner, who had lent him the 
money at the quite moderate interest of ten 
per cent, to enable him to take up a share in 
The Twin Brothers. He stood up in the stern 
16 





The First of the Wheat Ships 






The First of the Wheat Ships 

and respectfully saluted the great man on the 
shore, a politeness which the Jew returned with 
as much courtesy as he could bring himself to 
show to a heathen dog. The other passenger, 
who was no less a person than the supercargo, 
climbed up the steps of the pier. Manasseh and 
Raphael greeted him warmly ; he was, in fact, a 
near kinsman, a nephew of the elder and cousin 
of the younger man. His name was Eleazar. 

“ Welcome, nephew,” said Manasseh. “ You 
have had a good voyage, that I can tell from your 
having come in such excellent time. And you 
are well — to that your blooming looks bear witness. 
And you bring good news ? ” 

“ That, my dear uncle, depends upon how 

you take them,” replied Eleazar, “ but ” 

And he looked round on the little crowd 
which had by this time gathered on the pier. 
Then as now a very little incident sufficed to 
bring a crowd together at the seaside. This 
particular occasion, too, as some of the bystanders 
were aware, was one of special importance. The 
seafaring men had recognised The Twin Brothers , 
and knew that she was the first comer of the 
wheat ships, and they had also a shrewd idea 
that a meagre time might be at hand. 

“ You are quite right, my dear Eleazar,” said 
the old man, interpreting correctly his nephew’s 
17 B 


The First of the Wheat Ships 

look ; “ this is too public a place for discussing 
business. We can find a convenient room at the 
inn, if you know our countryman Jonah’s place 
by the Old Harbour. I daresay that you could 
drink a cup of wine. For my part I never could 
fancy either food or drink on board a ship. Every- 
thing seems to me to taste of bilge water.” 

“ Thanks, uncle,” said Eleazar, “ I am too used 
to the sea to feel quite like that ; still, I do vastly 
enjoy my first bite and sup when I get onshore.” 

The party soon reached the tavern, a building 
with a humble exterior, which, in accordance 
with the universal Jewish custom, belied the 
comfort, not to say the luxury, of the interior. 

“ What do you say to a flask of Lebanon ? ” 

Raphael made a wry face. “ My dear father, 
Lebanon, when one can get Falernian or For- 
mian ! ” 

“ Would you drink these Gentile abomina- 
tions ? ” growled the old man. 

“ Surely, sir, there is nothing in the law that 
forbids it.” 

Manasseh could hardly say that there was, and 
Raphael was served with his flask of Falernian, 
his cousin admiring his courage, but caring little 
for the matter in dispute. 

“ And now to business,” said Manasseh. “ How 
about the wheat, Eleazar ? ” 

18 


The First of the Wheat Ships 

“ A very short harvest, and poor in quality.” 

As he spoke he drew out of his pocket a little 
sample bag such as dealers carry now, and have 
doubtless carried from time immemorial, and 
poured out the contents upon the table. Man- 
asseh and Raphael carefully examined the grain. 
They were not long in coming to a conclusion. 

“ As poor a sample as I have ever seen,” re- 
marked the younger man. 

“ Well,” said the father, “ I can hardly go so 
far as that. I can remember a long time, you 
see ; but it is very poor. And this, you say, is a 
fair sample.” 

“ Yes,” replied Eleazar, “ quite a fair sample ; 
some of the grain from Upper Egypt is better, 
but then some is worse — that, for instance, from 
the Moeris country, where the canals were 
not more than half filled.” 

“ And the price ? ” asked the older man. 

“ Well,” said the other, “ the price is a very 
serious matter. It is pretty high now ; but no 
one can say what it will rise to. Let me tell 
you what I have done. Early last month I 
bought a million medimni, to be delivered 
before the end of May, at a hundred and twenty- 
five sesterces the medimnus . 1 I felt that so far 

1 An Egyptian medimnus equalled three bushels. These and 
other measures differed as much as our own used to do. A hun- 

19 


The First of the Wheat Ships 

I could not be wrong. Well, I could have sold 
the wheat the day before I started at one hundred 
and sixty, and I haven’t the least doubt in the 
world that it will go much higher.” 

Manasseh and his son looked very grave. They 
had hoped for a rise and, as has been seen, stood 
to win considerably by it ; the supercargo’s 
bargain meant a gain of at least .£250,000 1 — 
but there might easily be too much of a good 
thing. The State had a way of interfering when 
prices rose above all bearing, and private interest 
went to the walls. And nowhere was this more 
likely to happen than at Rome. 

“ You have done quite right,” said Manasseh 
after a pause ; “ and I should not have com- 
plained if you had bought five times the quantity. 
But I must confess that I don’t like the prospect. 
The Treasury is in a very poor way. This fine 

dred and twenty-five sesterces may be reckoned at £ 1 . This 
would be equivalent to about fifty-four shillings the quarter, 
nearly double the price at which it is standing at the present 
moment in England. It may be remembered that silver and 
gold were worth more, that is, could purchase more, weight for 
weight, than they can do now. The penny, “ denarius,” of the 
New Testament was a silver coin weighing about three-fifths of a 
shilling or a little over sevenpence ; but more could be bought 
for it. It was a fair daily wage for a labourer. 

1 I use now, and shall use hereafter, English equivalents for 
quantities and prices. 


20 


The First of the Wheat Ships 

new harbour has cost an enormous sum of money ; 
so have the drainage works and the aqueducts 
and the markets. And then for every pound 
honestly spent another pound has been stolen. 
Those two scoundrels of freedmen, Pallas and 
Narcissus, must have at least two million apiece. 
These are the lions, f and there are whole herds of 
jackals and wolves that are fed to the full. Every 
farthing comes out of the Treasury. Now what 
I want to know is this — how is the corn that is 
given away every week to be paid for ? We are 
under contract to supply a hundred thousand 
bushels every month. We have guarded against 
a rise in price, but not against such a rise as this. 
The Treasury won’t — in fact, it can’t — pay the 
price that we ought to ask. I see trouble ahead.” 

It is needless to repeat the subsequent conver- 
sation. The practical conclusion arrived at was 
to buy up all the wheat that could be got, before 
the impending scarcity became a matter of pub- 
lic knowledge. There would have to be large 
concessions in the way of prices ; but this would 
hurt them the less, the stronger they could make 
their position or holding. It was arranged that 
Eleazar should enjoy the hospitality of his uncle’s 
house as long as he remained in Italy. The Twin 
Brothers would discharge her cargo with all 
possible speed, and return to Alexandria, with a 
21 


The First of the Wheat Ships 

cargo, if this could be found at a short notice, 
but in any case without delay, and the super- 
cargo would return with her. His acquaintance 
with the conditions of the Alexandria wheat 
market made his presence indispensable, especially 
at so critical a time. 


22 


CHAPTER II 

In the Jews* Quarter 

Manasseh and Raphael had granaries, with an 
office and a permanent staff, at Ostia. When 
instructions had been given for the unlading 
and storing of the cargo of The Twin Brothers , 
the business calling for their personal attention 
was concluded, and they prepared to return to 
Rome. A pair of fast-trotting horses were 
scarcely an hour in traversing the twelve miles 
that lay between the harbour and the city. The 
road, lying generally along the right bank of the 
Tiber, though not following the windings of 
the river, was almost level and in admirable 
condition. Entering by the harbour gate, they 
passed through the famous Gardens which the 
first of the Caesars had bequeathed to the Roman 
people, and so reached the Jewish Quarter. 
Manasseh’s home lay a little to the right of the 
road, occupying a slight elevation, probably 
artificial, from which it overlooked the Gardens, 

23 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

while a garden of its own of a size quite unusual 
within the city walls led down to the river. 
Eleazar excused himself from joining his relatives 
at dinner — they dined at four, a happy com- 
promise, as they thought, between two, the 
favourite hour of the fashionable and luxurious, 
and six, the time commonly affected by men of 
business. 

Eleazar was bound for the other end of the 
Quarter, a region of shops and factories. He had 
no difficulty in finding the place of which he 
was in search. It was a factory where the 
hair of the goats that roamed over the hills of 
Rough Cilicia 1 was worked up into tents, rugs 
and the like. A large building, as it appeared 
in those days, though it would be absolutely 
insignificant compared with the huge factories 
of modern times, it was occupied by some thirty 
workers, all men and boys — the Jew then, as now, 
does not approve of his womenkind doing any 
work not domestic — busy combing the hair 
weaving the cloth and pressing and otherwise 
preparing for use the manufactured material. 
A man of middle age, somewhat insignificant in 
appearance, as far as stature was concerned, but 
with a singularly pleasing and expressive coun- 

1 Cilicia was divided into two regions, named respectively 
Rough (Tracheia) and Plain (Pedias). 

24 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

tenance, was moving about among the workers 
and examining the results of their labour. Ob- 
viously he was the master of the place, or his 
representative, and Eleazar, approaching him 
with a respectful salutation, put into his hands a 
letter addressed to “ Asa ben Ephraim, otherwise 
Caius Cilnius Aquila, at his house in the Janiculum 
at Rome.” The letter was written in Aramaic, 
which may be called the modern or popular 
form of Hebrew, but was arranged in Roman 
form. It ran thus — 

“ Lucius Cilnius Aquila of Alexandria to his 
brother Caius heartily greeting. 

“ I commend to you and to my sister, your most 
honoured consort, the bearer of this epistle, 
Eleazar ben Nathaniel, an inhabitant of this 
city, a young man zealous of all good things, 
and filled with a most laudable desire to increase 
his knowledge of such matters as concern the 
spiritual life. I am assured that he is altogether 
faithful and trustworthy. Nevertheless there 
are certain things, which, especially in these 
days, it is better not to write with paper and ink, 
but to communicate by word of mouth. For this 
reason I leave the young man himself to set forth 
to you that which is in his mind. Farewell.” 

As Aquila read the letter, the brightness of his 
face seemed to grow more intense. 

25 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

“ All my brother’s friends are mine,” he cried. 
“ And when did you see my dear brother last ? 
Was he quite well ? ” 

“ Quite well when I saw him, and that was 
just a fortnight since. He gave me this the 
night before I sailed, and I landed this very 
morning at Ostia.” 

“ You bring good news,” said Aquila. “ You 
are in every way welcome. But where are you 
lodging ? Won’t you take up your quarters 
with us ? ” 

Eleazar explained that he was his uncle’s guest. 

“ Ah,” said Aquila with a smile, “ we must not 
meddle with what is Manasseh’s, guest, or busi- 
ness, or anything else. But you can give us your 
company at supper ? ” 

“ Yes, with pleasure,” replied Eleazar. “ I 
excused myself from the meal at my uncle’s, be- 
cause I did not know when I should be 
free.” 

“ Come, then,” said Aquila, “ follow me,” and 
he conducted his guest along a short covered 
way which connected the factory with the private 
dwelling. Throwing aside a curtain which cov- 
ered the end of the passage, he led the way into 
a small plainly furnished chamber. Its sole 
occupant was a lady who sat with bent head over 
a piece of embroidery. 

26 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

“ A friend of our dear Lucius, my Priscilla,” 
said Aquila. 

When the lady rose from her place to greet 
him, Eleazar thought that he had never seen a 
nobler looking woman. That she was not a 
countrywoman of his own he felt sure. At 
least he had never seen a Hebrew lady with so 
commanding a figure, with such a wealth of 
golden hair, and a complexion of such dazzling 
brightness. And, indeed, Priscilla was no coun- 
trywoman of his. He was but seldom at Rome, 
his business keeping him by far the greatest part 
of his time at Alexandria. But for this he would 
probably have heard of an affair which had caused 
no little surprise, not to say scandal, in fashionable 
circles in the capital, when one of the most beauti- 
ful and high born of Roman maidens had married 
a Jewish merchant. Prisca — for that was the 
lady’s name, Priscilla being a half-humorous 
diminutive suggested by her unusual stature — 
belonged to the ancient house of the Fabii. This 
was one of the very few great patrician houses 
which had survived into the days of the Empire. 
Her father, a Fabius Maximus, who claimed 
direct descent from the great general who had 
been the first Roman to meet Hannibal in the 
field of battle without disaster, had enjoyed the 
perilous privilege of friendship with the Emperor 
27 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

Augustus, and had been brought to his end by his 
inconvenient knowledge of a State secret . 1 His 
family were naturally out of favour with Augustus’ 
successor, and had suffered both in property 
and in social position. Still, it had the prestige 
of a pedigree which went back far into mythical 
times, and the young Fabia, who was a child of 
some three years at her grandfather’s death, 
might have made a splendid marriage, had she 
so willed it, when the time came. But things 
were otherwise ordered for her. Her most 
intimate friend was a married woman, Pomponia 
Graecina by name, some fifteen years older than 
herself, the wife of a Roman noble, who was 
afterwards to be one of the most distinguished 
soldiers of his time . 2 The young Fabia was in 
her eighteenth year, when her friend’s husband 
was raised to the Consulship. In the course of 
his official duties, Plautius came into contact with 

1 Augustus, who had virtually nominated his stepson Tibe- 
rius as his successor]on the Imperial throne, was supposed to have 
contemplated a change before the end of his life. One of his 
grandsons, children of his daughter Julia, was living in enforced 
seclusion, on account of his savage and untractable temper, on 
the little island of Placentia (Pianosa, near Elba). A scheme for 
recalling him was set on foot. Fabius was privy to it, and it 
was the cause of his death. 

2 Aulus Plautius, who commanded the Roman force in Britain 
a.d. 43-47, and reduced the southern part of the island to 
subjection. 


28 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

a young Jew. The occasion was of no particular 
importance, a civil suit in which the Jew was a 
plaintiff, seeking to recover the value of some 
jewellery which he had made for a customer. The 
articles were exhibited in Court, and the Consul 
was struck with the elegance of design and the 
delicacy of workmanship which they displayed. 
He gave the young man a commission, and the 
commission brought him in course of time to the 
Consul’s private residence. The jewellery was 
naturally submitted to the Consul’s wife. Fabia 
happened to be visiting her friend when the Jew 
with his wares was introduced. Both ladies 
were struck with a novel design which they saw 
repeated on some of the articles, familiar enough 
to us, but then a novelty even among Christians, 
and of course absolutely strange to any one out- 
side the narrow circle of believers . 1 

The young Jew — I may say at once that he 
was Aquila — was not prepared for questions on 
the subject. In fact, it was by an oversight that 
the article in question had been included in the 
parcel, and he endeavoured to evade the subject. 
It was easy to see, however, that the questions 
were not put from mere idle curiosity. Pomponia 
had for some years been attracted by what she 

1 I mean the symbol known as the Fish — IX0YS — I (rjo-ovs) 
"K^pio-Tos) © (eos) 


29 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

had heard of the Jewish faith. It may be easily 
understood that the religious traditions in which 
she had been brought up failed to satisfy her. It 
was indeed almost impossible for a Roman man 
or woman of the time to be at once intelligent 
and devout. The old Italian faith, which was 
an elaborate nature-worship, in which every 
process or development of life had its presiding 
deity, had passed away. The gods and goddesses 
which Rome worshipped were practically those 
which the Greek literature had personified, being 
greater than man in strength and beauty, but 
below him in morals . 1 

The one characteristic Roman worship was 
that of the Deified Augustus, with whom were 
associated other princes of the Imperial house. 
Pomponia had not broken with the ordinary 
observances of private and public religion. At 
home she hung the usual garland on the family 
Lar, and saw that the usual offerings of food were 
placed before the image ; in public, she attended 
such festivals as public opinion, now grown very 
lax in such matters, made obligatory. But these 


1 The deities of the Roman poets, notably of Virgil, are prac- 
tically Greek in character. Jupiter Capitolinus has become 
degraded to the level of the Olympian Zeus with all his lusts 
and caprices. 


30 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

devotions were perfunctory ; her real thoughts 
in this province of her life were very different. 
What she heard from the Jew gave to these 
thoughts a definite shape. Little, of course, was 
said at the first interview. Aquila was naturally 
cautious and reticent. The Jew had every reason 
for not wearing his heart upon his sleeve, least of 
all in such a city as Rome, where the representa- 
tives of the official religion, augurs, and flamens, 
and pontiffs were so numerous and so powerful. 
But by degrees he took courage to speak more 
plainly and openly. As he set forth the Hebrew 
conception of God, the One and Undivided, the 
hearts of his hearers — for the young Fabiawasnot 
less interested and zealous than her friend — were 
greatly moved. The One Maker and Ruler of 
all things, dwelling in a serene region above all 
human passions, untouched by the anger, jea- 
lousies, caprices of favour and disfavour which 
degraded the gods of the old faith, yet ceaselessly 
careful for the wellbeing of His creatures, de- 
manded and received their allegiance. As time 
went on, Aquila would bring a small scroll of his 
national scriptures, parts of the great work which 
we know as the version of the Seventy, the Septua- 
gint. The two ladies were as familiar with Greek 
as with their own language, and they listened with 
rapt attention as Aquila read the pure and lofty 
3i 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

precepts of the Law, the outpourings of the 
Hebrew singers, touching, as they have done in 
every age, the joys and sorrows of the human 
heart, and the sublime utterances of the prophets. 
And all this time the young Jew was himself learn- 
ing. He had renewed at Rome a friendship of 
his boyhood. His birthplace was the ancient city 
of Cabira in Pontus, and his closest companion in 
early days in lessons and in sport had been a young 
Jew who was a native of the same town. Their 
lots fell in different places. Andronicus, who 
claimed kinship with no less a person than St. 
Paul, had found employment at Alexandria. 
There his surroundings had been, as might be 
expected, wholly Greek, and he had assumed a 
Greek name. Such a name was more convenient 
for business, and, we may add, more agreeable to 
the hearing than the accidental or intentional 
mispronunciation of his own Hebrew appellation. 
From Alexandria he had come, at the call of busi- 
ness, to Rome, and at Rome he had chanced upon, 
or, may be, had been led to a meeting with his 
old friend Aquila. But Andronicus had had 
experiences which had not been vouchsafed to 
his friend. He had journeyed to Jerusalem 
some ten years before to attend the feast of 
Pentecost, and had witnessed events which were 
to influence profoundly the rest of his life* 
32 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

He found the congregation or synagogue 1 to 
which he naturally attached himself (that 
supported by natives of, or visitors from, the two 
great Greek cities of Northern Africa, Cyrene 
and Alexandria) in a state of the greatest excite- 
ment. The preaching of a young Jew, Stephen 
by name, had moved them profoundly, rousing 
an angry hostility in most, admiration in a few, 
wonder in all. Andronicus was a devout soul, 
and he had the open mind which often goes with 
the devoutness that can pierce beneath forms and 
names to the very heart of religion. And he had 
had the immense advantage of hearing at Alexan- 
dria the teaching of the great Philo. Philo, 
though he seems never to have heard of Christ, 
did in a manner prepare the way for Him. Disci- 
ples who listened to him intelligently were pre- 
pared for the doctrine of a Divine Word proceed- 
ing from the supreme Jehovah. The preaching of 
Stephen put their vague ideas into shape. This 
Divine Word had actually dwelt upon earth ; he 
was the Master to whom Stephen and his fellow 

1 I follow the opinion that two synagogues of Greek-speaking 
Jews are mentioned in Acts vi., one including the visitors from 
Cyrene and Alexandria, the other those from Cilicia (in which 
Tarsus, of course, would be included) and Asia (the Roman pro- 
vince of that name comprising the north-west corner of Asia 
Minor). 


33 


c 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

believers — “ the Way,” as they had come to be 
called in Jerusalem — proclaimed their allegiance. 
Every time that Andronicus listened to the fer- 
vent eloquence of the young preacher, his convic- 
tion that the hope of the Hebrew race had found 
its fulfilment grew stronger. Then came the 
tragical end, the savage outburst which seemed 
to silence this wonderful voice, but in reality gave 
it new power and a wider audience. Andronicus 
was present when the sudden rage of the crowd 
vented itself upon the man whom it could not 
silence by argument. He was carried, against 
his will, by the rush of the angry multitude into 
the meeting place of the Seventy. There he 
had seen the face of the accused glowing with a 
noble rage , 1 and had listened to the great defence 
which the impetuosity of the orator so soon turned 
into a great attack. His voice, with the voices of 
a few companions who sympathized with him, 
were raised in ineffectual protest against the 
savage cries which clamoured for the speaker’s 

1 Compare the words (probably derived by Luke from St. 
Paul, who then related an experience of his own), “ And all that 
sat in the council, looking steadfastly on him, saw his face as it 
had been the face of an angel,” with St. Matthew’s account of 
the descent of the angel at the Resurrection (xxviii. 3) : “ His 

countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow, 
and for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead 
men.” 


34 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

death. He had even followed in the faint hope 
of rescuing the victim. Then he had been pre- 
sent at the last scene, and if anything had been 
wanting to complete the conviction that he had 
been listening to a messenger of God he found it 
then, in the majestic patience, in the divine for- 
giveness of the sufferer, in the irresistible appeal 
which no one who was present could ever have 
forgotten to a King throned far above the tumults 
of earth. Andronicus resolved at once to learn 
all that could be learnt about a matter in which 
he was so deeply interested. This for a time he 
found no easy task. There was a general flight of 
-Christians from the city ; those who remained 
were cautious of entering into communication 
with an unknown inquirer who might only be 
seeking to entrap them. But there were some 
who neither deserted their post, nor shunned any 
opportunity of avowing the Faith. The Apos- 
tles, protected by the reverence in which they 
were held, and possibly by their habit of devout 
attendance at the Temple, still remained in 
Jerusalem. Philip, whose Greek name seemed to 
indicate him as a proper person to approach, made 
no difficulty about seeing the young Alexandrian, 
and answering all his questions. For the next 
few weeks, Andronicus, as may easily be supposed, 
could think of nothing else. Day after day he 
35 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

sat at the apostles’ feet and listened eagerly to the 
story of the Master’s life, impressive beyond all 
that we can conceive when heard from the lips of 
an eye witness. When the time came for him to 
return to his home, whither he was called on 
business that could not be any longer postponed, 
he petitioned to be admitted to baptism, nor did 
the apostles find any difficulty in granting the 
request of a disciple so well instructed, so intelli- 
gent, so thoroughly in earnest. 

It was a momentous event, therefore, for them- 
selves and for others when the two natives of 
Cabira happened to meet in the streets at Rome. 
This meeting took place, it has been said, some 
time after Aquila’s acquaintance with the two 
Roman ladies had begun. It was not long before 
the newcomer’s experiences at Jerusalem were 
made known to his friend. Andronicus had com- 
mitted to writing as much as he had been able of 
Philip’s reminiscences and instructions, and he 
lost no time in giving Aquila the benefit of what 
he himself prized so highly. Aquila listened with 
eager attention ; what he heard seemed at once 
new and familiar. It was familiar because it 
seemed to put old hopes and longings into shape ; 
it was new because the shape had a reality and an 
attraction such as far transcended his largest 
imaginings One of his first thoughts was to 
3b 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

communicate his own knowledge to Pomponia 
and Fabia. He asked leave to bring Andronicus 
with him on his next visit, and the permission 
was gladly given. The two ladies listened to the 
story with the same rapt attention which Aquila 
had given it, and it had the same convincing 
effect. But when it came to the question how 
the conviction thus wrought was to take shape 
in action, the situation that presented itself was 
perplexing. Pomponia could not see her way 
plain before her. Her husband held high office 
in the State, and as a soldier of distinction and 
experience, was a confidential counsellor of the 
Emperor. Claudius, well meaning, though weak, 
was already too much under the dominion of 
unworthy favourites, and it seemed to her a lamen- 
table thing to do anything that would weaken her 
husband’s more salutary influence. And she was 
convinced that such a result would follow’were she 
to make open profession of her new belief. Per- 
haps she would have done better to have ventured 
all, but if she held back it was not from any fear 
of consequences to herself, but because she had a 
profound faith in her husband and in what he 
would do for Rome. Fabia had no such ties. She 
was almost alone in the world, and had consequently 
far more practical independence than a woman 
could commonly hope to have in Rome. She 
37 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

made up her mind to be baptized — and after ? 
Then her difficulties began. For an unmarried 
woman to live alone in Rome was practically 
impossible. She had suitors, for she was of the 
noblest blood in Rome, she was beautiful, and she 
had an adequate, even a large fortune. But her 
suitors were, of course, of the old faith. The 
Christian minister whose counsel she sought 
confirmed her own conviction that marriage 
with a Pagan was impossible. The suitor might 
promise, but the husband would not be likely, 
probably would not be able, to perform. 

At this point Pomponia had a sudden impulse 
to intervene. Why should not her young friend 
find one who would be at once husband, protector 
and teacher, in Aquila ? The suggestion was 
startling, and at first distasteful. Priscilla had her 
full share of pride of race, and she could not 
relinquish it in a moment. That this daughter 
of men who had made themselves masters of the 
world should own as her own master one of a 
subject race seemed at first preposterous. But 
the thought that was at first so strange became 
familiar. There were at work the persuasions 
of her friend, always tactfully employed and never 
missing when an occasion presented itself ; there 
was the conviction that there was no better way 
out of a singularly difficult position ; there was 
38 


In the Jews’ Quarter 

the consciousness of the young Jew’s heartfelt 
admiration, which he now ventured, at Pom- 
ponia’s suggestion, to make a little more evident 
than he would otherwise have dared to do. And 
then, most potent motive of all, there was the 
thought that in what concerned the deepest 
interest of her life, the young man was in the ful- 
lest sympathy with her. To say, as one might 
say if the scene of the story were in the England of 
this twentieth century, that Fabia fell in love with 
Aquila, would be incorrect. This was hardly the 
way with a Roman maiden, and certainly not 
with Fabia. But she yielded by degrees to the 
conviction that the marriage was in the path of 
duty, and it was not long before she began to feel 
that the path was one which she would willingly 
follow. At the season of Whitsuntide the two 
were baptized. Aquila, who had actually been 
for some time accepted as a candidate for the 
holy rite, had delayed his profession till he could 
make it with the woman he loved. On the third 
day after, the marriage was celebrated. This was 
the Priscilla to whom Eleazar was now introduced. 


39 


CHAPTER III 


Archias of Corinth 

The conversation that followed the introduction 
was profoundly interesting. Eleazar had much 
to say about his friends at Alexandria, about the 
other Aquila with whom he had been for some 
years on terms of intimacy, and many others, 
not a few of whom turned out, as so often hap- 
pens, to be mutual acquaintances. Much was said 
about an eminent native of the city who had lately 
passed away, the great philosopher Philo. Aquila 
had made his acquaintance some ten years before, 
when he had come to Rome with some of his 
countrymen in the forlorn hope of inducing the 
Emperor of the time, the madman Caligula, to 
listen to reason. The unworldly old scholar, who, 
after fifty years devoted without intermission 
to study, had left the calm seclusion of his library 
to champion his race, and had braved without 
betraying one symptom of fear, the fury of the 
tyrant, had profoundly impressed all beholders. 
Aquila had been able to render some little service 
40 


Archias of Corinth 


to the old man, who was in feeble health. He had 
supplied him with money when, in consequence 
of unexpected delays, his resources had failed, and 
had assisted him to acquire some rare books, 
treatises on philosophy and other similar volumes, 
to which he calmly turned from the thankless and 
wearisome business which had brought him to 
the capital. Eleazar, on the other hand, had done 
some business for him, after his return to Alexan- 
dria, advising him about investing some sums of 
money which happened to come to him, and finally 
acting as the executor of his will. From the man 
it was an easy transition to pass to the teaching. 
Eleazar had been deeply interested in this, and 
had had the advantage, thanks to the intimacy 
which he had enjoyed during the last year of the 
old man’s life, of hearing it expounded in familiar 
language. He was therefore in a measure pre- 
pared for Aquila’s application of its central idea 
of a Divine Word. He had often meditated on 
the great question, What is this Word ? Is it 
Jehovah under another name ? That there was 
One God and One only was the foundation truth of 
all his faith ; and yet the sages of his race had used 
language which seemed to have at least a different 
ring , 1 and now Aquila took up Philo’s great doc- 

1 So, “ I was always before Him rejoicing in the habitable 
parts of the earth” (Proverbs viii. 31). 

4 * 


Archias of Corinth 


trine as his text and “ preached unto him Jesus.” 
That he was convinced at once must not be sup- 
posed. The idea that “ the Word was made 
flesh,” that God dwelt for a time in a tabernacle 
of human flesh, seemed at first almost shocking to 
him, habituated as he was to thinking of the Deity 
as dwelling in an unapproachable splendour. 

When he was compelled to depart, for the talk 
was prolonged far into the night, and he was bound 
to present himself without more delay at his uncle’s 
house, Aquila had put into his hands a copy of 
the precious document which he himself had 
received from his fellow townsman Andronicus. 
With this precious loan Eleazar departed, and 
having begged permission, on arriving at his 
uncle’s house, to seek his chamber, devoted him- 
self immediately to the study of it. He did not 
sleep till he had gone through it more than once, 
and after a few hours of sleep, he studied it again. 
As soon as courtesy permitted, and what was 
necessary in the way of business had been trans- 
acted, he hurried again to Aquila’s house full of an 
earnest desire to hear all that he could learn. The 
two — or rather the three, for Priscilla was never 
willingly absent when such topics were discussed — 
were deep in talk, when a stranger, of whom we 
shall hear again in the course of the story, was 
announced. 


42 


Archias of Corinth 


“ Don’t go,” said Aquila to his young friend ; 
“ we have still much to say to each other, and it 
is possible that I may be soon disengaged. May I 
ask, sir, whether it is likely that your business will 
keep me long ? ” 

“ I hope not, sir,” replied the newcomer with 
a courteous inclination of his head. “ In fact, 
I may say that I expect that it will be speedily 
settled.” 

The stranger was a Greek who numbered 
between fifty and sixty years, evidently a gentle- 
man, and if one might judge from his face and 
general bearing, a man of intelligence, refinement 
and culture. He was a native of Corinth, a mem- 
ber of what was beyond question the most distin- 
guished family in the city, that of Archias, the 
founder of Syracuse. Archias was the name that 
he himself bore, and he claimed to be twenty- 
second in direct descent from the first of the race. 
This took back his pedigree over nearly eight 
hundred years ; but the family was really much 
older than this. His ancestor was the first of his 
race in the sense that he brought into it the glory of 
having led with success the most distinguished 
colony that ever went forth from Corinth to make 
a new home for itself. But he was then a long 
descended man. He traced up his line to Her- 
cules, and through Hercules to the Olympian Zeus 
43 


Archias of Corinth 


himself. Practically, however, the distinction of 
the Archias family depended on the Syracusan 
episode. Even when the glories of the great 
Sicilian city had long since passed away, the 
representative of the house held, both there and 
in the mother city of Corinth, rank with which 
no one could claim equality. And Archias 
the twenty-second, of whom, however, I shall 
henceforth speak without this cumbrous 
appendage to his name, was not unworthy of his 
place. 

He now began to explain the business which 
had brought him to Rome and to the house of 
Aquila. 

“ I have the honour,” he said, “ to be the chief 
magistrate, or archon , as we are accustomed to call 
it, of the city of Corinth. In that capacity I have 
to negotiate for a loan, and I have been recom- 
mended to you as a person who might be able and 
not unwilling to advance the money. Your name 
was mentioned, I may say, by our right honourable 
Governor, Lucius Junius Gallio. Let me explain 
the circumstances under which the loan is called 
for. It is our habit to renew every fifty years the 
various belongings of the Isthmian games which 
the city of Corinth has the honour of conducting. 
It is needless to go through the items at present. 
They are all duly stated on a document that I have 
44 


Archias of Corinth 


with me, and which will be produced at the pro- 
per time, if the negotiations are carried to a suc- 
cessful issue. It is arranged that the loan shall 
be paid off by annual instalments of a fiftieth part, 
together with the interest on so much as remains 
still due. We thus distribute, as far as may be, the 
burden between this and succeeding generations. 
It is secured, I may say, on the customs and har- 
bour dues of the port, or I should rather say the 
ports, for we derive considerable revenue from 
both seas. This security is, I can assure you, 
amply sufficient. One year’s income, were it all 
devoted to this purpose, would suffice for the 
whole expenditure ; but, as I have said, we feel 
that what is to be enjoyed by the future as well 
as the present inhabitants of Corinth ought to 
be apportioned among all.” 

“ This all seems reasonable enough,” remarked 
Aquila. “ If the sum you want is not beyond my 
means, the investment is just what I should like. 
I should tell you that the money with which I 
am dealing belongs to my wife.” 

There is no need to report the conversation 
any further. Archias produced his paper of 
particulars, as also, by way of credentials, a letter 
of introduction from Gallio. When the matter 
had been fully gone into, it was arranged that 
Aquila should either come to Corinth himself, or 
45 


Archias of Corinth 


should send a confidential agent, and so satisfy 
himself by inquiries on the spot and personal in- 
spection that all the circumstances were as the 
Corinthian magistrate had described them. 


46 


CHAPTER IV 


A Bread Riot 

It is not to be supposed that so important an 
event as a rise in the price of wheat would long 
remain unknown in Rome, a city of which one 
might fairly say that it contained more paupers 
than any other place in the world ever had or 
probably ever will have. The private bakers, 
who naturally took early care to guard themselves 
against loss, had already been charging their 
customers more for the loaf. Other provisions, 
too, were becoming dearer. The question which 
agitated the multitude of people who depended 
more or less on the State for their daily bread 
was not whether wheat was dearer, but whether 
the public distribution of it would be in any way 
affected. This was the topic that was freely 
debated by the crowd that was assembled round 
the steps of the public bread depots one morning 
some three weeks after the incidents described 
in my first chapter. Public opinion was, as may 
47 


A Bread Riot 


be supposed, fairly unanimous against any dimin- 
ution in the quantity distributed. 

“ What is the good of telling us that Rome is 
the capital of the world,” cried a speaker who 
was evidently a favourite, “ if we are not to get any 
advantage from the dignity ? Of course the 
capital must be the last place to suffer. Rome 
is the mistress of the world, and it would be a 
poorly managed household where the mistress 
should be hungry and the servants well fed. If 
there is any shortage in the supply, let the country 
folk suffer first. There are plenty of ways in 
which they can make it up to themselves. They 
have got their gardens and their fields ; they 
can hunt and fish ; whereas we poor citizens 
have our bread and nothing else.” 

This oration was received with shouts of 
applause, and an imprudently candid bystander 
who ventured to observe that a common calamity 
would have to be put up with by all was hustled 
and kicked and generally given to understand 
that his opinions were highly unpatriotic. 

The system in use for managing the distribution 
of bread without disturbance or delay was that 
every tribe — the tribes numbered a few over 
thirty — resorted to a depot of its own. Each 
man or woman entitled to share in the public 
bounty was provided with a ticket, and a tribe, 
48 


A Bread Riot 


which in earlier times had been an important 
political body, was now practically nothing more 
than a corporation of such ticket-holders. These 
corporations again had an informal arrangement 
of their own by which the distribution was made 
easier. As each must have numbered several 
thousand persons, there might easily have been 
no little discomfort and even danger in obtaining 
the allowance. To guard against this a certain 
order was established. The older ticket-holders 
had precedence ; and it was a practice for one 
man to act for others. He would go attended 
by two or three porters, and would so be able to 
carry away the allowances of a considerable 
number of ticket-holders. On the whole the 
matter was managed in a quiet and orderly 
manner ; at the same time there were no small 
possibilities of disturbance. In a time of ex- 
citement voluntary arrangements of this kind 
are likely to become ineffective. 

The time of distribution was at hand. At a 
signal given by the sound of a bugle, the doors 
of the depot were thrown open, and the business 
began. It should be explained that the doors 
were approached by a flight of broad steps, up 
which each ticket-holder had to pass. As a 
matter of fact there were many buttery hatches, 
at which a considerable number of ticket-holders 
49 d 


A Bread Riot 


could be served at once. Passages were made 
by which those who had received their allowance 
could retire without interfering with fresh ap- 
plicants. Not many minutes had elapsed before 
the first comers had been served and had made 
their way back to their fellows ; a few minutes 
more and the whole multitude was in a state of 
excitement, which became greater when one of 
the loaves distributed was raised on the top of a 
long pole, and so made visible far and wide. 
No one who saw it could doubt for a moment 
that the size had been materially reduced. This 
was not all. It soon became generally known 
that the quality of the article had been reduced 
as well as the quantity. The colour and smell 
of the bread showed clearly enough that a good 
deal of grain other than wheat had been used in 
making it. The worst fears of the crowd were 
realized. It was evident enough that the author- 
ities had the intention of putting off the pensioners 
of the public bakeries with a smaller quantity 
than they had been accustomed to receive, and 
that the diminished ration was also of a less 
palatable quality. A Southerner, in whose diet 
bread is an even more important thing than it 
is to a dweller in the north, is particularly sensi- 
tive as to its quality. 

It was not long before the excitement began 
50 


A Bread Riot 

to vent itself in the usual acts of violence. Of 
course the first thing was to make an attack on 
the bread depots. The authorities had foreseen 
the probability of such a result, and had made 
preparations accordingly. Each depot had its 
garrison of soldiers. They had been kept out 
of sight as long as it was possible to dispense 
with their services, but were now instructed to 
show themselves. The mob were for the most 
part unarmed, though some of the most turbulent 
spirits had provided themselves with bludgeons 
and even more formidable weapons, and at sight 
of the armed men it drew back. The excitement 
had not yet become so intense as to make it 
ready for so unequal a conflict. Then there 
was a diversion ; for Narcissus, one of the wealthy 
freedmen who shared the real though not the 
ostensible management of public affairs, was 
seen to pass in his gorgeous chariot close to the 
outskirts of the crowd. “ See the scoundrel 
who battens on the hunger of the people,” was 
the cry raised by the multitude in a hundred 
different ways, and an ugly rush was made in the 
direction of the equipage. But Narcissus was 
perfectly well aware of his unpopularity, and 
had made special preparations that day to protect 
himself against any manifestations of hostility. 
A strong escort of Praetorian cavalry was in 
51 


A Bread Riot 


attendance. They were riding at a considerable 
distance behind the carriage, so that an unin- 
formed spectator might have supposed that their 
presence was accidental. But the officer in 
command was clearly on the watch for what 
might happen, and as soon as he saw the move- 
ment of the crowd he gave the order to his men 
to close up. Instantly the troopers put their 
horses to the gallop, and before the foremost 
rioters could come up, they had formed them- 
selves in a close body on each side of the equipage. 
The crowd, baulked of their vengeance, could do 
nothing but give vent to a storm of shrill cries 
of rage and angry exclamations. These were 
redoubled when Narcissus was seen to salute the 
crowd with an ironical courtesy. Nothing more 
was possible ; in a few minutes he was safe within 
the strongly guarded walls of the Imperial Palace. 

But the crowd was not going to be so easily 
mocked and eluded. The rioters were not 
rash enough to venture on a collision with the 
Praetorian cavalry, nor to break their heads against 
the stone walls of the public bakeries. But 
there were other bakers who would furnish an 
easier prey. Some of the creatures, thoughtless 
or malignant, who are always at hand to suggest 
some kind of mischief to an excited crowd, raised 
a cry of “ Down with the bakers,” and a rush was 
52 


A Bread Riot 

made to the nearest establishments. Some had 
been prudent enough to shut up their shops and 
remove all their wares ; others had sought and 
obtained the protection of the city-guards ; but 
many were quite unprepared for the outbreak. 
They were not in the least to blame, as far as the 
ticket-holders were concerned. Possibly they 
had raised the price upon their private customers 
before they had felt the pinch themselves, and 
while they were still using the stock bought at 
the old prices — bakers and other tradesmen were 
not above doing such things in ancient Rome, 
as they are not above doing them in modern 
London. Possibly also they had charged these 
same customers with an increase which more 
than made up for the market rise — this is 
probably a practice as old as the baking business 
itself. But they were not in the least responsible 
for the small loaves, largely made up with rye- 
flour, which had been issued from the public 
depots. Their innocence did not protect them. 
The crowd had a bread grievance on their minds, 
and were not at all particular on whom they 
vented it. Shop after shop was wrecked, most 
of the spoil being as usual trampled under foot 
and generally wasted. The plunderers were not 
hungry, but angry. Then it occurred to them 
that spoiling bread shops and bakeries with a 
53 


A Bread Riot 


blazing June sun overhead — it was almost noon — 
was thirsty work, and that there were wine shops 
near. Against the wine-sellers the rioters had no 
grievance whatever, except that some of them 
might have been refused the amount of credit 
to which steady customers thought themselves 
entitled. But, grievance or no grievance, the 
wine shops obviously called for the next visit. 
Some sagacious dealers saved their establishments 
and part at least of their stock-in-trade by a 
liberal offer of free drinks to all comers. The 
rioters could not for very shame do any harm to a 
generous host who rolled a cask on to the pave- 
ment and asked for no payment for its contents. 
Others, who were more inclined to stand upon 
their rights, escaped less easily. Considerable 
damage was done, more by waste than by robbery, 
for the wine that flooded the gutter was far 
greater in quantity than that which went down 
the throats of the rioters. The disturbance 
developed in the usual way. The professional 
thieves and robbers who always lurk in the slums 
of great cities, creatures of hideous aspect who 
seldom show themselves to the light of day, saw 
their opportunity. Their thoughts were fixed 
upon something more valuable than bread and 
wine, on plunder that could be carried away, 
turned into money, and so made to furnish 
54 


A Bread Riot 


pleasure for many nights and days. After the 
bakeries, the wine shops ; after the wine shops, 
when the courage of the crowd had been raised to 
the necessary pitch, the establishments of the 
jewellers and the bankers. This turn of affairs 
threatened, as will be seen, the life and property 
of an important personage whose acquaintance 
we made in my first chapter. 


55 


CHAPTER V 


A Desperate Defence 

Manasseh, the dealer and speculator in wheat, 
had other irons in the fire. He had a jeweller’s 
shop on the Esquiline Hill, a quarter which, since 
the building of Maecenas’ great villa, had become 
fashionable ; and he united with the business 
of a jeweller two occupations which could be 
conveniently carried on in the same premises, 
banking and money-lending. The combination 
was, as may be supposed, productive of hand- 
some profits, though not without considerable 
risks. A fashionable lady would spend a couple 
of hours or so in looking through Manasseh’s 
stores, replenished almost day by day by con- 
signments from compatriots settled in all the 
great markets of the East and the West. Not 
long after would come a visit from her husband, 
who would find himself at a loss how to settle 
the account. Manasseh was as ready to lend 
the money as he was to supply the jewels for 
which the money was to be paid. His prices 
56 


A Desperate Defence 

were high, as they had a right to be where every- 
thing sold was of the very best quality and in- 
disputably genuine, and he charged about fifteen 
per cent, on his loans ; so he made handsome 
profits in both ways. Sometimes, of course, 
things did not turn out well. There were 
“ sharks swimming about ” in the Roman streets 
as there are in the Strand to-day ; and Manasseh, 
for all his precautions, was sometimes bitten by 
them. But on the whole the Esquiline estab- 
lishment, with its handsome shop front challen- 
ging the admiration of the world, and its quiet 
back door which borrowers found so convenient, 
flourished exceedingly. 

It was now, however, to undergo one of the 
shocks which defy the acutest speculation, and 
against which no precautions can guard, an out- 
break of popular violence. The rioters were 
pausing to take breath after sacking some half- 
dozen wine shops when some one cried, “ How 
about the Jews ? ” The name was like a spark 
of fire dropped upon a heap of brushwood. It 
kindled an instantaneous fire. The Jews have 
never been liked by the people among whom they 
have settled. Their virtues and their vices have 
combined to make them unpopular. They are 
frugal, industrious and sober. It is only right 
that these qualities should have their reward ; 

57 


A Desperate Defence 

that men who possess them should get better 
places, earn better wages, save more money, 
provide themselves with more comfortable homes 
than their neighbours who spend up to the last 
farthing of their earnings, and lose at least a tenth 
part of their working time in riotous excesses. 
But those who fall behind in the race of life do 
not feel amiably towards those who pass them, nor 
is their animosity lessened by the consciousness 
that their defeat is the result of their own folly. 
A more reasonable cause of the popular dislike 
of the Jew was to be found in the hardness and 
sharp dealing of which some of the race were 
actually guilty and of which all were accused. 
However it came about, and whether it was 
deserved or undeserved, the unpopularity of 
the Jews was an unquestionable fact. The 
suggestion of the name had accordingly an 
immediate effect. In a few minutes there was a 
general cry of “ Down with the Jews.” It is 
probable that very few in the crowd had suffered 
anything at their hands, and that of these few 
scarcely one had got anything more than he 
amply deserved. But such cries may be uttered 
without any reason. The mass of the rioters 
had a vague feeling that things were in a bad 
way, and that they might improve if something 
were done. The leaders of the crowd had much 
58 


A Desperate Defence 

clearer ideas of what they wanted and of how it 
might be got. The Jews were excellent people 
to plunder. The booty would be great, the 
resistance probably weak, and the chances of 
impunity considerable. Jewish plaintiffs were 
not popular in the courts, and magistrates had 
been known to dismiss their complaints even when 
they were supported by unimpeachable testi- 
mony. 

The crowd was prepared to act, but it still 
wanted a leader. “ Down with the Jews ” was 
quite to its mind, but where was the work to 
begin ? The crowd was not long left in doubt. 
A stout rioter, who had been very busy in plun- 
dering the wine shops, and showed sufficient 
proof of his zeal, was ready with a suggestion. 
The fellow had been a porter, and had been 
employed by Manasseh, who was unreasonable 
enough to expect an equivalent in work for what 
he paid in wages. 

Gutta — this was the man’s name — would 
never have done a stroke of work if he could 
have relied on the State for wine as well as bread. 
He thought this below the dignity of a free-born 
Roman, and resented the interference. He re- 
signed his situation with all the dignity of one 
of the masters of the world, and waited an oppor- 
tunity of making himself even with his tyrannical 
59 


A Desperate Defence 

employer. And now, he thought, the oppor- 
tunity had come. 

“ There is that Jew dog, Manasseh. It is he 
and his gang that have put up the price of wheat. 
The furies seize him and his small loaves and his 
rye bread ! ” 

“ Where shall we find the fellow ? ” cried a 
voice from among the crowd. 

“ In the Jews’ quarter, of course,” said another. 
“ I know the place, a big house close to the river.” 

There was a movement in that direction. But 
the porter shouted, “ No ! no ! there is a better 
way than that. The villain has got a shop in the 
Esquiline full of jewels and gold. It is better 
worth our while to go there.” 

A wrangle followed. One party was for the 
house. The Jew was sure to keep his best 
things at home. The other preferred the shop. 
Everything there, they argued, will be ready 
to our hands, while we may spend hours 
searching the other place. In this discussion 
not a little valuable time was lost, perhaps one 
should say gained, if we take the point of view 
of law and order. These were now to receive 
the help of an unexpected ally. 

The Corsican captain of The Twin Brothers , 
who had found the time hang rather heavy on 
his hands, had happened to witness the scene at 
60 


A Desperate Defence 

the bakery, and had followed the mob, with no 
sort of idea of sharing their plunder — he was far 
too respectable for that — but in the hope of finding 
amusement and possibly adventure. He was 
sitting in the wine shop of a compatriot, whose 
property he had helped to preserve, when his 
ears caught the name of Manasseh. He had the 
ready intelligence that marks the successful man 
of action, and he at once comprehended the 
situation. He had a shrewd suspicion that the 
porter would have his way, and that the Esquiline 
shop would be the first object of attack. If 
he was wrong, and the house by the river was 
attacked, the mistake would not matter much. 
There was less property there that could be 
easily plundered, and there would be men to guard 
it. The shop, on the other hand, was full of 
valuables. He arrived at this conclusion after 
a few moments’ thought, and when he had arrived 
he acted immediately. He enlisted on his side 
two stout lads, sons of the Corsican innkeeper, 
and hurried with them to the shop. Manasseh 
and Raphael were both there. The Jews, as 
usual, were admirably served in the way of in- 
telligence. They had suspected for some days 
that trouble was brewing ; they had had early 
information of the outbreak ; experience had 
taught them what direction it would certainly 
61 


A Desperate Defence 

take, and they knew as well as the porter, and 
probably better, that the shop in the Esquiline 
was their vulnerable point. The place was not 
incapable of being defended. The front, where 
the jewellery was commonly displayed, was 
protected by strong iron guards, which had by 
this time been made fast ; the door in the rear 
was strongly plated with iron and the windows 
were heavily barred. Unfortunately there was 
next to nothing of a defending force. The 
slaves could not be trusted. No slave, in fact, 
was ever allowed to go near the establishment 
on the Esquiline. No master could quite rely 
on his bondservants — a Jewish master least of 
all. One middle-aged man of Jewish birth 
lived at the place, and he was helped by a hired 
lad. Manasseh and his son, therefore, though 
they were determined to defend the place to the 
utmost, did not take a cheerful view of the 
future. Great, therefore, was their relief when 
they saw the Corsican captain and his companions, 
though their arrival confirmed their fears, if 
indeed they needed any confirming, that an 
attack was imminent. A plan of defence was 
immediately arranged, Manasseh handing over 
the chief command to the Corsican. As a rule 
a sailor is better suited than most men to deal 
with emergencies, and the Corsican in particular 
62 


A Desperate Defence 

was one of those men who leave an almost in- 
stantaneous impression of capacity and power 
on all who come in contact with them. The 
least defensible part of the building was a small 
door in front. The shop window was well 
protected, as has been said ; but there was an 
ordinary door, provided indeed with bolts and 
a bar of the ordinary kind, but not stout enough to 
resist for any length of time a determined assault. 
Here, then, the Corsican took up his post, having 
on his side one of his two companions ; the 
other he stationed in an upper room which was 
immediately over the door. These arrangements 
had scarcely been completed when the rioters 
appeared. Apparently they had not expected 
anything like a determined resistance. One 
reckless fellow, anxious, apparently, to have a first 
hand in the plunder, pushed up against the door, 
as if he expected to find that it had not even been 
bolted and barred. The young Corsican, who 
was in the upper room, protected from sight by 
the construction of the window, and who was 
armed with a bow and arrows, immediately 
seized the opportunity. He took deliberate aim, 
and shot his arrow through the open lattice. The 
missile struck the fellow full in the neck and 
felled him to the ground. The crowd fell back 
some paces in dismay. A pause of a few minutes 
63 


A Desperate Defence 

ensued, used by the assailants in rigging up a 
rude battering ram. This, however, they did not 
bring into action without further loss. A second 
man was mortally wounded ; a third and a fourth 
received severe injuries. But the attack was 
not repulsed by these losses. The amateur 
robbers, if one may use this term, were driven 
off, but the professionals came to the front. 
Another and more determined charge was made 
with the battering ram, and the door was broken 
down. But the little garrison behind was pre- 
pared for the result, which indeed they had seen 
to be inevitable. The captain, who had armed 
himself with a huge battleaxe, brought the 
weapon down with fatal effect on the head of 
the first man who ventured to cross the threshold ; 
his younger companion ran a long Gallic sword 
into the body of the second. The two corpses 
blocked the entry, and the archer above availed 
himself of the block thus caused to discharge yet 
more of his deadly shafts. The attack on the 
front was for a time effectually checked. 

In the rear the defence was not so successful. 
The door and the window were, as has been 
said, well protected, but there was a side yard, 
approached by a narrow passage, which opened 
out on the street some distance lower down. 
The captain, to whom the locality was quite 
64 



The Attack on Manasseh’s House. 










A Desperate Defence 

strange, knew nothing about it ; Manasseh and 
Raphael had forgotten its existence in the hurry 
of the moment. But the porter knew it well, 
and when the front attack had been so disastrously 
repulsed, had bethought himself of making it 
useful. The movement was for a time successful. 
The passage was unguarded, and the assailants, 
nearly a score in number, found themselves in 
the yard without loss. Here, indeed, there 
was a brief check. The only communication 
between the yard and the house was an opening 
not unlike a buttery hatch. This was, of course, 
too small for a man to pass through, but as the 
wall round was of timber only, it admitted of 
being easily enlarged. Two or three of the 
assailants set about doing this. While they were 
thus engaged, Manasseh struck at one of them 
with a spear from the inside, and wounded him 
severely. In so doing, however, he exposed 
himself to a similar thrust from outside, and the 
opportunity was not lost. He received a wound 
in his side, and Raphael himself was touched, 
though but slightly, as he dragged the old man 
away from the opening. Meanwhile the tim- 
ber, though sufficiently stout, was giving away 
under the repeated blows that were dealt on it. 
Raphael, though loath to call his stout ally, 
the Corsican, from a post where his prowess was, 
65 e 


A Desperate Defence 

he well knew, sorely needed, felt that he had 
no alternative. His father was absolutely helpless, 
and he was himself, if not disabled, somewhat 
crippled. His halloo was immediately answered 
by the captain in person. The man, who had 
the eye of a general, took in the situation at a 
glance. He saw that nothing was left but to 
gain time. It was useless, he felt, to propose a 
parley. The rioters knew as well as he did that 
the guardians of the peace must come before 
long, and that when they came the game was up. 
No, there was nothing for it but to fight to the 
last ; but how ? and where ? Then the thought 
flashed upon him — why not the upper room 
in the front part of the house ? This was ap- 
proached by a somewhat steep staircase, and a 
staircase was exactly the place for a defence when 
the odds were desperately large. He caught the 
wounded Jew up in his arms, and bidding the 
younger man follow, ran with him at a speed 
which would have been deemed impossible in a 
man so burdened, and got him safely to his des- 
tination. There was a reprieve, but it seemed 
likely to be but for a very few minutes. Happily, 
however, the defensive capabilities of the new 
position were not to be tested. 


66 


CHAPTER VI 

Seneca 

At last, when it was almost too late, the guard- 
dians of order appeared upon the scene. The 
watch, or, as we should say, the police, which had 
the business of keeping the peace in Rome, was a 
military force. It was very effective when it was 
brought to bear upon any disturbances, just as 
the military is in our own country, but it was 
commonly very tardy in its movements. The 
men who constituted it were not dispersed over 
the city, but concentrated in a barrack. Much 
time was lost in letting the officer in command 
know that help was wanted, especially when the 
disturbance took place in some remoter quarter 
of the city ; and not less in traversing the distance 
between the barracks and the scene of action. 
In this case the movements of the watch had been 
even unusually slow. At first the officer did not 
understand that the situation was serious. Jew- 
baiting was a recognised form of public amuse- 
67 


Seneca 


ment. The authorities did not interfere until the 
affair seemed so grave as to threaten the public 
peace. So it happened on the present occasion. 

“ Let them settle their own quarrel,” the 
officer on duty had said with a shrug of the shoul- 
ders ; “ it is six of one and half a dozen of the 
other. The Jew has been trying to cheat the 
Roman in one way, and the Roman to cheat the 
Jew in another ; one asks double the right price 
for the goods, and the other wants to get them 
for nothing at all.” 

A more urgent message, however, made it 
evident that something had to be done. A 
company therefore was equipped, as speedily as 
military formalities permitted. It had just 
started when a third and still more alarming 
summons had arrived. The men were then 
ordered to go at the double, and, as has been 
said, arrived just in time to prevent disaster. 

The centurion in command found himself more 
interested in the affair than he had expected to 
be. In the first place the casualties had been 
numerous. Five of the assailants had been killed, 
and two more so severely wounded that their 
recovery was doubtful. The corpses had to be 
removed and the wounded carried to their homes, 
such as they were ; the hospital to which they 
68 


Seneca 


would nowadays be taken did not then exist. 
Then there was the fact that the owner of the 
place which had been attacked was a person of 
importance. Almost every one in Rome knew 
the name of Manasseh, and public rumour attri- 
buted to him wealth inferior only to that possessed 
by the powerful freedmen of Caesar. A million- 
aire, even though he was a Jew, was not to be 
knocked about with impunity, as if he had been 
some common man. Nothing less could be done 
than to provide for his safe and speedy removal 
to his own home. This was accordingly done, 
an escort, by way of greater precaution, being 
furnished from the company. 

The next thing was to obtain a trustworthy 
narrative of what had happened, on which to 
base the report which the centurion would have 
to make to his superior officer. Obviously the 
Corsican was the right person to tell the story. 
The centurion listened to it with unflagging 
interest, and was not a little pleased to find that 
the man was a compatriot and even a remote 
connexion. 

“ I am heartily glad to make your acquaintance,” 
he said ; “ you ought to have been a soldier. 
Not one man in a thousand would have made such 
a defence ; and your last move was a masterpiece.” 

“ You are very good,” answered the captain, 
69 


Seneca 


“ but I am well content with my own profession 
of the sea. I can’t help feeling that you soldiers 
are too much under command. Now when I am 
aboard my ship and out of sight of land, I am as 
much my own master as any man in the world. 
Not Caesar himself can meddle with me there. 
He has got his ministers and his wife and I know 
not who else to reckon with. No, no ! I 
wouldn’t change places, no, not with Caesar him- 
self.” 

“ Well, well,” returned the centurion, “ we 
will talk about this afterwards. Come back with 
me to barracks after I have settled this business.” 

It was arranged for the present that the shop 
should be put in charge of an optio , or deputy 
centurion, with a guard of five men. Raphael 
was to put his seal on such safes and lockers as had 
especially valuable contents. Future arrange- 
ments were left for further consideration. This 
done, the party bent their steps in the direction 
of the barracks. 

But the surprises of the day were not yet over. 
As they were passing by the booksellers’ stalls in 
the Forum — traders were accustomed to congregate 
in Rome, as they still do to a certain extent in 
modern cities — they were attracted by the appear- 
ance of a particularly sumptuous litter that was 
in waiting in front of one of the stalls. The litter 
70 


Seneca 


itself was richly upholstered in gold and silk ; the 
bearers, eight in number, were stout Bithynians, 
a race which it had been the Roman fashion to 
employ for this purpose for more than a century. 
The owner, a man between fifty and sixty years, 
was examining the contents of the bookstall, and 
talking to the shopkeeper, who stood by in an 
attitude of profound respect. 

“ That,” said the centurion, in a whisper to his 
companion, “is one of our richest men — Seneca.” 

“ What ! ” replied the captain, “ is he back 
in Rome again ? ” 

“Yes, since last year,” said the centurion ; “ but 
let us move out of earshot.” When they were 
at a safe distance, he went on : “ He is in high 
favour now : Caesar’s wife cannot make too much 
of him. He teaches her son, is a sort of tutor to 
him, you know ; works with Burrhus, who is my 
chief, as I daresay you know. But do you know 
him ? ” 

“ Know him ? ” replied the captain ; “I should 
think so. I had the taking of him to Corsica 
when he was banished. This was nine years ago. 
I never had such a passenger ; he made trouble 
enough for a whole cohort of men. He kept on 
crying that he was the most miserable of mortals. 
What happiness was he leaving behind him ! 
To what wretchedness was he going ! For my- 
7i 


Seneca 


self I do not see that it is so great a hardship to 
exchange Rome for Corsica. You get a better 
climate, excellent hunting, plenty to eat and 
drink, only you must not be particular, and good 
neighbours, as long as you keep on the right side 
of them. However, that was not the way in which 
my passenger looked at the matter. If he had 
been going to execution, he could not have made 
more fuss, and probably would not have made so 
much. And yet he was what they call a philoso- 
pher. And what made it worse, he was terribly 
seasick. I don’t know what that feels like myself. 
I took to the sea from a child. But I fancy that 
while it lasts it is as bad as anything can be. 
Well, I did what I could for him, and he was 
grateful, yes, and made me a handsome present ; 
you see, they had not taken away all his money. 
He was not a bad fellow at bottom, but he seemed 
to me to make a great trouble out of very little. 
Give me five million sesterces a year 1 — that is what 
I heard he had — and send me to Corsica to spend 
it, and I’ll not ask for anything more. And so 

1 This would be about £40,000 a year. Seneca, afterwards at 
least, had more. In 58 a.d. he was said to possess three hun- 
dred million sesterces, which would be equal to nearly£2, 500,000. 
This at eight per cent. — and capital brought in high interest — 
would be £200,000. Juvenal speaks of him as excessively rich 
(praedives), and his establishment was said to be more splendid 
than the Emperor’s. 


72 


Seneca 


he is back in Rome and a great man, you tell me. 
Well, I wonder whether he will know me again. 5 ’ 

The two crossed the street again and waited 
outside the shop. Seneca by this time had fin- 
ished his inspection of the book and was nego- 
tiating for its purchase with the shopkeeper. The 
business was quickly arranged, for he was an excel- 
lent customer, and his ways were well known. 
To offer a good price and to stick to it was his 
plan, and the booksellers had the good sense to 
fall in with it. He was about to step into the 
litter, purchase in hand, when he caught sight 
of the captain. He recognised him immediately. 

“ Well met, my friend , 55 he cried ; “ and what 
brings you to Rome ? What are you doing now ? 
Still the sea, I suppose ? You sailors are always 
giving it up and taking to it again. 

Refits his shattered bark, and braves 
Once more the vext Icarian waves, 

as Horace has it . 55 

“ Yes, sir , 55 replied the captain, “ we are like 
the politician who is always, I am told, forswear- 
ing public affairs, and always meddling with them 
again. And after all we must do something to 
live. It isn’t every one that has all that he wants 
without earning it . 55 

“ Ah, you have me there,” returned the great 
man with a smile. “ But where are you now ? 

73 


Seneca 


When I made my journey back from the place 
you know of, I asked the captain about you, but 
he could tell me nothing.” 

“ I am captain and part owner of a wheat ship, 
one of the Alexandrian fleet.” 

“ And it is just what you like, I hope ? ” 

“ Well, it might be better and it might be 
worse. But I don’t complain. You see, I am 
not a philosopher.” 

Seneca laughed. “ My dear friend,” he said, 
“ you are a little hard on me. But you know the 
wise man is always himself except when he has a 
bad cold, and, I think one might add, except when 
he is seasick. But I can’t wait ; I am due at my 
pupil’s in a very short time. But come and dine 
with me to-morrow, and bring with you your 
friend, if he can put up with a philosopher’s fare. 
Will you do me the honour of introducing 
him ? ” 

“ Caius Vestinius, a centurion in the watch,” 
said the captain. 

“ You will be welcome, sir,” said Seneca. 
“ I am delighted to make your acquaintance. We 
are not half grateful enough to you gentlemen, 
whose courage and diligence enable us to sleep 
sound in our beds. On the third day, then, at 
four o’clock ; you will excuse the lateness of the 
hour, but I am a busy man.” 

74 


Seneca 


With a courteous gesture of farewell he stepped 
into his litter and was carried off. 

“ That is a very polite perspn,” said Vestinius, 
as the two resumed their journey. “ But I am 
scarcely disposed to go. I shall be out of my 
element in such grand company.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” said the captain. “ There is 
nothing particularly grand about him as far as I 
can see. And besides, you must bear me com- 
pany. It is not for a brave soldier to desert his 
friend.” 

The rest of the day was spent in jovial fashion, 
and it was only when Vestinius was ordered out 
again on duty that the two friends parted. 


75 


CHAPTER VII 

In the Circus, and Afterwards 

On the day that followed the events described in 
the last chapter, the popular discontent was dis- 
played at the games in the Circus. Some pains 
had been taken to make them more imposing and 
attractive than usual. The wild beasts exhibited 
were the finest and rarest varieties ; some per- 
forming elephants were to exhibit their choicest 
feats, carrying a sick comrade, for instance, in a 
litter on a tight rope stretched across the arena ; 
some favourite gladiators were advertised as 
about to contend. But all these attractions 
failed to conciliate the multitude. The Emperor 
headed the procession in order to give further 
eclat to the show. He was received, however, with 
sounds suspiciously like a hiss, and when his min- 
isters passed, a deafening shout of “ Bread ! 
bread ! Give us our bread ! ” arose on every 
side. The Emperor, who knew, and, indeed, 
76 


In the Circus, and Afterwards 

was allowed to know, very little of what was going 
on in Rome, was not a little frightened at the 
demonstration, and for that reason all the more 
angry. When he was brought to take an interest in 
anything outside his dining-hall and his library— 
he was as great a glutton of books as of dainties — 
he could show himself both capable and energetic. 
His ministers were not unprepared for the rare 
occasions on which their master asserted himself. 
They bent before the storm, which would soon, 
they knew, blow over, and leave them to follow 
their usual intrigues in peace. 

“ What is this about bread ? ” cried Claudius. 

Narcissus explained that wheat had risen greatly 
in price, and that it had been necessary to dimin- 
ish the allowance made to the ticket-holders. 
The explanation did not explain anything to the 
imperial mind. If Claudius had ever felt the 
want of money, and it is quite possible that he had 
in the days before he came to the throne, he had 
forgotten all about it. His ministers carefully 
kept all matters of finance from his knowledge, 
and he had simply no idea of there being any 
limit to what the treasury could or could not 
do. 

“ I don’t understand what you mean,” he 
cried. “ My Romans must have as much bread 
as they want. It is not for the Augustus to 
77 


In the Circus, and Afterwards 

chaffer about how many denarii are to be paid 
for this wheat that is wanted. I suppose that I 
have money enough.” 

“ Certainly, sire,” answered Narcissus, with a 
low bow. “ Everything shall be arranged accord- 
ing to your Highness’ pleasure. But meanwhile will 
you please to proceed to your place and give the 
signal for the Games to commence. Afterwards, 
if you will condescend to listen, I will set the 
whole case before you, and we shall then have the 
advantage of your counsel.” 

The Games, which it is not necessary to de- 
scribe, passed over without any untoward incident, 
though the populace was obviously in a very bad 
humour. One or two unsuccessful and unlucky 
gladiators received a death sentence which they 
would probably have escaped had the masters of 
their fate been better content with themselves 
and the world. The comic business of the spec- 
tacles moved very little laughter, and their splen- 
dours very little admiration. But the whole 
passed over without any positive outburst, and 
the authorities felt that they had at least obtained 
a reprieve. 

It was clear, however, that no time was to be 
lost, and a council in which the situation was to 
be discussed, and if possible dealt with, was to be 
held that very day. The Roman hours for busi- 
78 


In the Circus, and Afterwards 

ness were very early, and it was only a very great 
emergency that could be held to justify so late 
an hour for meeting as the time fixed, 4 p.m. 
The Emperor, who was for once genuinely inter- 
ested in the affairs of the present — the affairs of 
the past could always attract his attention, if they 
were sufficiently remote and obscure — took the 
hastiest meal that he had ever had in his life, 
without complaint, and presided in person. The 
first business was to make a statement of the 
affairs of the treasury. It was not complete, such 
statements seldom are, but it was quite sufficient 
to show the Emperor that the state of things was 
serious. It came upon him as a surprise ; he 
had always entertained a belief, quite vague and 
unfounded, but never questioned, that the public 
purse was inexhaustible. His only idea now was 
to sell the gold plate of the palace. The minis- 
ters received the suggestion with due respect and 
complimented the Emperor on his generosity and 
self-sacrifice. 

He was a true father of his country, who was 
willing to give up anything rather than that his 
people should suffer. They were equally compli- 
mentary when he suggested that he should give a 
public recitation, tickets for which should be sold 
at five gold pieces each. This idea was put off, 
for some sufficiently plausible reason. Then 
79 


j In the Circus, and Afterwards 

Narcissus gave his advice, introducing it with the 
usual assurance of submission to the superior wis- 
dom of the Emperor. The substance of what 
he said was, that in his judgment the difficulty was 
temporary, sufficiently serious indeed to demand 
prompt remedy — he was too sagacious to minimize 
a matter about which Claudius, he saw, was very 
anxious — but not beyond treatment by temporary 
measures. There was scarcity, but it would pass 
away. Meanwhile those who had wealth ought 
to put a sufficient portion of it at the service of 
the State for immediate uses. “ I will give,” he 
went on, “ two million sesterces .” 1 The sum 
sounded imposing, but to anyone who knew the 
circumstances of the case, it was but a small frac- 
tion of the wealth which, by means more or less 
nefarious, the donor had stolen out of the public 
revenue. Still it had a magnificent sound. Pal- 
las, who was supposed to be his equal, if not his 
superior, in wealth, followed with the offer of a 
similar sum. Two other officials who had had 
fewer opportunities, though equal desire, for 
plunder, named smaller amounts. At this point 
the Prefect of the Praetorians broke in with a 
suggestion of a more radical policy. He praised 
the munificence of the freedmen, though he con- 
trived in doing it to convey the idea which we 

1 About £160,000. 

80 


In the Circus, and Afterwards 

know to have been perfectly in accord with the 
truth, that they were but giving back a part of 
what they had received or taken. “ But,” he 
went on, “ their gifts will only help us for a time ; 
we must remove, if we can, the cause of the evil. 
And what is the cause ? I say that it is the avarice 
and rapacity of the Jews. Rome has never been 
the same since they began to settle here, and the 
more of them come, the poorer she grows.” 

One of the freedmen ventured to say that so 
far as he had an opportunity of observing them 
they seemed sober and industrious. 

“ Sobriety and industry,” replied the soldier, 
“ are admirable virtues if the man who possesses 
them is a patriot. If he is not, they do but make 
him more dangerous. These Jews are a turbu- 
lent, discontented and disloyal lot. I saw some- 
thing of them when I was in command of one of 
the legions in the time of Caius Caesar . 1 They 
got into a state of furious excitement for some 
trifle or other, and there was very nearly a rebel- 
lion.” 

“ My nephew,” said the Emperor, “ was, I 
think, a little unreasonable. He wanted to set 
up a statue of himself in their chief temple, and 
they objected to it. I cannot but think that they 
were in the right.” 

1 Commonly known by the name of Caligula. 

8l F 


In the Circus, and Afterwards 

“ You are very kind, Sire, to say so, but for my 
part I hold that the dogs should have felt hon- 
oured by the proposal. Who are they to flout at 
Caesar’s statue ? ” 

“ My friend,” said the Emperor, with a dignity 
which he sometimes knew how to assume, “you 
are scarcely an authority on such matters. But 
what think you,” he went on, turning to Narcis- 
sus, “of these Jews ? ” 

“ Sire,” said the freedman, “ I do not deny 
that they are temperate and hard-working ; but 
this does not necessarily make them good citizens 
or good neighbours. The fact is that they push 
our people out of the best places, and they make 
themselves masters. They have always got money 
at command, and they lend it. I know something 
about money lending ; I was once in the business 
myself, and I still have agents who employ part 
of my capital in that way. They tell me that in 
nine cases out of ten when they have an applica- 
tion for a loan, they find that a Jew has got a first 
mortgage on the house, or the stock-in-trade, or 
the tools, or whatever it is that the man wants to 
borrow on. They always take care to have the 
best in any matter they meddle with.” 

“ But are they extortionate ? ” asked the 
Emperor. 

“ I can’t say that they are, and yet they 
82 


are 


In the Circus, and Afterwards 

unpopular ; of that I am quite certain, though 
it is difficult to say why. It would certainly 
please the people generally if they were banished 
from Rome.” 

“ Banished from Rome ! ” cried Claudius. 
“ That would be harsh dealing.” 

“ I am sure, Sire,” said Narcissus, “ there are 
precedents, but your Highness is better acquainted 
with these things than any of us. Was there not 
something of the kind done with the Greek pro- 
fessors some two hundred years ago ? ” 

This artful appeal to the Emperor’s erudition 
had the effect which it was intended to have. 
Claudius mounted his hobby and was fairly car- 
ried away. 

“ Yes,” said he, “ you are right. One hundred 
and ninety-nine years ago, to be exact, the Greek 
philosophers and teachers of rhetoric were ban- 
ished by the censors of Rome.” He went on with 
a list of precedents which we need not be at pains 
to repeat, finishing up with a recent example. “ As 
many living persons remember, in the third year 
of Tiberius, the astrologers were banished from 
Rome ; I myself have more than once contem- 
plated doing the same thing.” 

By this time the Emperor had talked himself 
into a complete forgetfulness of the events of the 
case, and showed no hesitation in signing the 
83 


In the Circus, and Afterwards 

decree, artfully made ready for the opportunity. 

As the council broke up, Narcissus whispered 
to Pallas — 

“ After all, our millions may not be so badly laid 
out ; there will be some shipwrecks, I take it, 
pretty soon ; and it will be strange if there are 
not some valuables to be picked up on the shore.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


The Proclamation 

The Imperial Chancery was busily employed 
for many hours of the night that followed the 
council described in the preceding chapter, in 
multiplying copies of the proclamation by which 
the decree of banishment was to be made known 
throughout the length and breadth of Rome. 
The document ran thus : — 

“ IN THE TENTH YEAR OF CLAUDIUS DRUSUS 
NERO GERMANICUS, AUGUSTUS, CONSUL 
FOR THE TENTH TIME. 

“ THE EMPEROR BY THE ADVICE OF HIS TRUSTY 
COUNSELLORS HEREBY DECREES THE BAN- 
ISHMENT OF THE PEOPLE KNOWN BY THE 
NAME OF JEWS. ALL PERSONS BELONGING 
TO THIS NATION MUST QUIT THE CITY OF 
ROME ON OR BEFORE THE FIFTEENTH DAY 
FOLLOWING THE DATE OF THIS PROCLAMA- 
TION. IT SHALL BE LAWFUL FOR THEM TO 
CARRY AWAY WHATEVER PROPERTY THEY 
MAY POSSESS. AND ONE SO BANISHED WHO 
MAY BE FOUND IN THE SAID CITY OF ROME 
85 


The Proclamation 


AFTER THE DAY MENTIONED ABOVE SHALL 
BE LIABLE TO DEATH AND THE CONFISCA- 
TION OF ALL HIS GOODS.” 

This was posted up in all the quarters of the 
city. It so happened that our two friends saw it 
for the first time as they were on the way together 
to Seneca’s house. Vestinius had been busily 
employed all the night in command of a detach- 
ment told off to cope with a great fire, and had 
been asleep all day ; the Corsican had spent the 
morning at Ostia looking after some necessary 
repairs to his ship. This had kept him so busily 
employed that he had barely time to keep his 
appointment in Rome. Accordingly he had 
hired a carriage which had taken him to the 
barracks exactly at the hour at which he had 
arranged to meet the centurion. 

They had not walked many yards, however, 
from the barracks when one of the posters at- 
tracted them. 

“ By the Twin Brothers,” cried the Corsican, 
when he had read it, “ this is a disaster ! It 
means nothing less than ruin. What will my 
employer do ? Fourteen days to collect his 
property and to put it into shape for carrying 
away. Why, he could hardly do it in fourteen 
years. You must excuse me ; I must go and see 
him at once. And it makes it all the worse that 
86 


The Proclamation 


he is laid up. They told me at his house this 
morning that he was a little better, but he 
certainly cannot be moved for weeks, and who 
is to manage for him ? It would be a great 
trouble at any time, his being laid aside, for he 
is the only man who knows about his business 
from end to end ; but now, I cannot conceive 
what we shall do.” 

“ I can understand what you mean. But I 
don’t think that it will be of any use for you to 
go to him now. On the contrary you cannot do 
better, in my judgment, than keep this appoint- 
ment. Seneca is a great man ; he is a power 
at court ; if there is anything to be done by 
private influence, he is the man to help you. 
You cannot do better, I take it, than to ask his 
counsel.” 

The Corsican acknowledged the justice of the 
remark, and made no further difficulty about 
fulfilling his engagement with Seneca. It is not 
necessary to describe the dinner. If it was not 
sumptuous for a millionaire it was certainly 
elaborate for a philosopher, and the guests, if 
they desired to share an entertainment which 
they might look back to and talk about in years 
to come, had no reason to be disappointed. 
Seneca suited his conversation to his company, and 
seemed to have no difficulty in doing so. The 
87 


The Proclamation 


sailor found that he knew all about ships ; the 
centurion discovered that he was practically at 
home in all the details of local administration. 
After dinner, when the slaves had finished their 
service and retired, the Corsican put before his 
host the case of Manasseh. 

“ I don’t particularly like this people,” he 
said, “ but the old man has been my very good 
friend, and I should be sorry to see him wronged. 
His case is very hard. It is bad enough at any 
time to be driven from his home, and now, when 
it may cost him his life to be moved, it is down- 
right cruelty.” 

Seneca, though he was too familiar with the 
ways of courts, and had had too plain a lesson of 
the need of caution, to be outspoken, was very 
sympathetic. In the ordinary course of things 
he would have been invited to attend the council, 
and it was a distinct affront that he had been 
left out. Whether he would have been able to 
resist with success the policy of the freedmen was 
more than doubtful, and this in a way reconciled 
him to the neglect. To the policy itself he was 
wholly adverse. He saw clearly enough that the 
qualities that made the Jews unpopular went at 
the same time to make them useful citizens. If 
they were frugal and industrious, and keen traders 
and apt to make a profit out of any business in 
88 


The Proclamation 


which they might engage, so much the better, 
not for themselves only, but also for the State. 
The Commonwealth, he was sure, could not 
afford to lose men of energy and resource and 
keep the indolent and shiftless. What if they 
did enrich themselves ? they were benefiting the 
country at the same time, and this was exactly 
what the unhelpful and improvident creatures 
who resented their superiority were sure never 
to do. The question of the moment, however, 
was what was to be done in this particular case. 
After turning the subject over in his mind for a 
few minutes, he gave the result of his reflections. 

“ It is a very hard case, as you say, this of your 
friend the Jew, but I think that I can see my way 
to helping him. But first tell me, have you any 
plan of your own ? ” 

“ Well,” replied the captain, “ I thought of 
suggesting that he should go with me on my 
return voyage to Alexandria. I am starting in a 
few days’ time and he would at least be safe 
with me.” 

“ Yes,” said Seneca, “ he would be that, but 
Alexandria is a long way off. If the winds are 
contrary, it might take you a month, or more 
than a month, to get there, and a month is a 
long time for an old man who has been brought 
very low by wounds. Corinth would be better 
89 


The Proclamation 


in every way ; it is much nearer, and besides, I 
could help you, as you will soon see. But first, 
will he be able to travel when the days of grace 
are over ? ” 

“It is very unlikely ; in fact, the physicians 
declare that it is impossible.” 

“ Well, then, we must manage to get leave 
for him to stay awhile till he can travel safely. 
I daresay that I shall be able to interest my 
pupil in him. He is a generous lad, though the 
gods only know what he will become amongst 
such surroundings. Put another Cheiron to 
bring up another Achilles in these days and in 
Rome, and he would have as big a task as he 
could possibly manage. But at present, as I 
say, he is a generous lad. And then there is the 
Empress. She is generous too. The gods forbid 
that I should say a word against her ; she has 
always been my very good friend. I certainly 
should not be here, very possibly I should not 
be alive, if it had not been for her. Yes, she is 
generous, but it might be well to reinforce her 
generosity. Your Manasseh is a very rich man ? ” 

“ Yes, very rich, though I don’t know enough 
about his affairs to fix any figures. But I should 
certainly say that he is rich — yes, very rich.” 

“ Well, it is not a case of money ; you would 
affront her by offering money. But she is a 
90 


The Proclamation 


woman, and she can never have jewels enough. 
Could your Manasseh, think you, gratify her in 
this respect ? ” 

“ Certainly,” replied the Corsican. “ I have 
a standing commission from him to buy what I 
think fit in this way, and I have had some fine 
things come my way in Egypt. Some excellent 
gems come down from the upper country ; and 
then there are some very precious things from 
the old tombs. Yes, Manasseh has as fine a 
collection of jewels, I take it, as there is in the 
world.” 

“ Yes,” broke in the centurion, “ and it is my 
friend the captain’s doing that he has them now.” 
And he went on to give a brief account of the 
narrow escape that the Esquiline shop had had 
of being plundered of all its treasures. 

“ Has he a son ? ” asked Seneca. 

“ Yes,” replied the Corsican, “ and a very 
shrewd young man too, though not to be com- 
pared, in my mind, with his father. His name is 
Raphael.” 

“ Well,” said Seneca, “ send this Raphael to 
me. We shall be able, I daresay, to manage some- 
thing between us. And when the father is 
recovered enough, he had better go to Corinth. 
It is an easy journey to Brundisium. From 
Brundisium he can cross over to Apollonia, and 
9i 


The Proclamation 


a fast galley will make the passage in four-and- 
twenty hours, and if he chooses he can travel the 
rest of the way to Corinth by land. And the 
reason I say Corinth is this. My brother Gallio is 
Proconsul of Achaia, and he has his headquarters 
at Corinth. There isn’t a kinder hearted man 
in the world, and I know he will do his best for 
any one whom I may recommend to him. Indeed, 
he does not want that — it is enough for a man to 
be unfortunate to have a good claim upon him. 
I shall see you again, but, as I said, send the son 
to me.” 

Shortly after this the Corsican took his leave, 
in much better spirits about his patron than he 
had had when he came. 


92 


CHAPTER IX 
An Exiled Nation 

Narcissus had prophesied only too truly when 
he had said that there would be shipwrecks in 
Rome when the decree of banishment was issued. 
The fourteen days’ grace conceded was by far too 
short a time. It gave the exiles time to collect 
and secure personal belongings and portable 
property generally ; but a merchant had very 
little opportunity of disposing of his warehouse 
goods, or a dealer of his stock-in-trade. The 
immediate effect of the decree, with its cruelly 
short limit of time, was, of course, to shut the 
market almost completely against Jewish sellers. 
The conspiracy of buyers holds good for a short 
time, though it is sure to break down sooner or 
later. It would infallibly have broken down 
before the end of six months if so long a period 
had been conceded. Some buyer would have 
applied the proverb that a bird in hand is worth 
two in the bush. He would have said to himself, 
“ I may get nothing if I wait till the general 
93 


An Exiled Nation 


scramble at the end ; but I may make sure of 
something now. I shall have to pay for it, it is 
true, but only half the proper price.” And so 
he would have gone, stealthily, indeed, not 
without a certain approving glow of conscience. 
As it was, it was almost impossible for a Jew to 
sell anything. Probably the purchasers who 
thus held back made a mistake. The organizers 
of the affair never intended to enrich chance 
comers. The property of the exiles was to go 
into the public coffers ; and a portion did actually 
reach them ; but most of the cargo — to go back 
to Narcissus’s metaphor — became the spoil of 
those who had brought about the shipwreck. 

The loss as usual fell more heavily on the poor 
than on the rich. Great firms such as that over 
which Manasseh presided had taken precautions 
against such emergencies. They made a point 
of having a Gentile partner, who, being exempt 
from the action of the decree, took up the char- 
acter of sole owner. Of course there was con- 
siderable risk of loss. The Gentile partner was 
not always an honest man. And there remained 
the great personal inconvenience, though always 
mitigated, as every trouble on earth is mitigated, 
by the possession of money. The poorer Jews 
had no such alleviation of their lot ; the small 
tradesman lost his capital, the artisan lost his 
94 


An Exiled Nation 


employment. The Jewish race is patient and 
tenacious of life beyond all others, with a quite 
unparalleled power of recovery ; all the same it 
suffered a great blow, and the misery endured by 
individual members of it was past all reckoning. 
And there were not a few cases in which others 
who could have had no share in the supposed 
misdeeds of the people suffered along with it. 

Aquila had of course to close his factory. He 
did his best to lighten the blow to his workmen. 
He had a branch establishment at Brundisium, 
and to this he transferred as much of his business 
and as many of his hands as was possible. At 
present the decree of banishment did not extend 
beyond Rome and its environs, and the provincial 
towns were comparatively unaffected by the 
hostile feeling that was so strong in the capital. 
Those who could not be thus provided for, Aquila 
helped liberally with money for their journey. 
Do what he could there was much suffering to 
which he could not minister ; but he made the 
lot of many much more endurable than it would 
otherwise have been, and Priscilla, it need hardly 
be said, did all that could be done to second his 
efforts. 

One great calamity, however, they could do 
little or nothing to mitigate, and that was the 
calamity which their departure brought on their 
95 


An Exiled Nation 


neighbours. A Roman poet, who was certainly 
not harder of heart then the average of his fellow 
citizens, counted it among the blessings of a 
countryman’s life that he had not to feel the 
pang of pity for the poor. This was a blessing 
which Aquila and his highborn wife did not 
covet. The new sense of the brotherhood of 
man which the Christian faith had brought with 
it had touched them and made them active in 
works of charity, the works which are almost 
a matter of course in modern life, but were a 
novelty in the ancient world. The Jew had 
always been generous to his own countrymen, 
and certainly not less charitable than others to 
the stranger, but Aquila and his helpmeet set no 
limitations to their bounty. No Gentile work- 
men were employed, it is true, in the factory, 
not on account of any exclusive feeling in Aquila 
— he had mastered with marvellous promptitude 
the lesson that in the Master there was neither 
Jew nor Greek — but because he felt himself bound 
to respect the convictions of his countrymen. 
He hoped that they would reach a better frame 
of mind in the future ; meanwhile he had to 
recognize facts. But outdoor work was largely 
done by Roman hands, and these brought him 
into contact with the poverty and suffering of 
the neighbourhood. There was not a case of 
96 


An Exiled Nation 

destitution or sickness in the thickly populated 
quarter in which the factory stood of which he 
and his wife were unaware. Their visits were 
received at first with astonishment and even 
suspicion. “ What do these rich people want 
of us ? ” was the question which many of them 
asked, and to which no answer could be imagined. 
A century before it might have been thought 
that Aquila was canvassing for some public 
office, some post, honourable and lucrative, which 
could be gained by popular election. But 
popular election had by this time become the 
merest show. The Emperor appointed to every 
office, and a handful of idlers who had nothing 
better to do with their time, assembled in the 
field of Mars, the scene of the stormy conflicts 
of old, to hear the names of his nominees. And 
then at last it dawned upon the people that these 
newcomers simply desired to help them. v The 
notion was so new that it came upon them almost 
like a shock. The poor of our own day look upon 
such offices as their due ; anyhow they are com- 
mon enough to excite no surprise. It is impos- 
sible to imagine what a passion of gratitude was 
kindled in the sick or poverty-stricken dwellers in 
the Suburra, for that, the meanest region of Rome, 
was the quarter in which Aquila and his wife 
exercised their labour of love. They prostrated 
97 g 


An Exiled Nation 


themselves before them, kissed the hem of their 
garments, and addressed them in language of 
adoration which, to the Jew at least, seemed 
almost shocking. And now when the news went 
through the quarter that its benefactors were to 
be driven from among them the excitement was 
intense. If Aquila had had anything of the 
turbulent spirit which was common among his 
countrymen he might have raised a riot, almost 
an insurrection. As it was, he did his best to 
comfort and calm. He and his wife would not 
forget them. Perhaps they might be permitted 
to return. Meanwhile they had left something 
in trustworthy hands for the relief of pressing 
needs. 

That they could do this was a great consolation 
to the two. They felt keenly the breaking 
up of their life in Rome, especially on its 
side of active benevolence. But it was some- 
thing to know that it might be taken up else- 
where. They had, indeed, liberty of action 
in an uncommon degree. Aquila had made 
savings which, though not very large, would amply 
suffice for a time, and Priscilla was rich. As 
much of her property in Italy as could be sold 
without exciting suspicion — and suspicion was an 
ever-present element in the atmosphere of Roman 
life, had been disposed of, and the proceeds had 
98 


An Exiled Nation 


been invested in safe quarters. Some had been 
lent to priva te traders ; and here Aquila had had 
the advantage of that system of commercial 
intelligence which the Jews had brought to such 
perfection. Something like a gazette circulated 
among them, and a borrower whose name was un- 
favourably mentioned in it would only be wasting 
his time if he applied for a loan. More had been 
invested with municipalities, as ready then to 
borrow as they are now, in Greece, Asia Minor, 
Gaul and Spain. One loan, as we have seen, 
had been made to the city of Corinth. It had 
been arranged, my readers will remember, that 
the business should be concluded at that place, 
and this would have to be done either by Aquila 
himself or by some confidential agent. Corinth, 
therefore, was manifestly pointed out as a con- 
venient choice, if a choice had to be made. 
What other interests would thus come into his 
life, Aquila did not so much as imagine. But 
the prospect of going there pleased him as much 
as any such prospect could please, when so 
many ties had to be broken, so many interests 
relinquished ? It was the seat of a busy and 
prosperous trade, and as such appealed to his 
tastes. Possibly he traced a parallel between 
its fate and the fate of his own mother-city, 
Jerusalem. Both had been made utterly deso- 


An Exiled Nation 


late, and both had recovered with marvellous 
celerity. On the whole, as he had to go, 
Corinth promised as well as any place outside 
his own land. 


ioo 


CHAPTER X 
The Imperial Pass 

The bulk of the exiles naturally chose the Ostian 
route. Then, as now, it was much cheaper to 
travel by sea than by land. The wheat ships, 
too, offered passages eastward at very cheap 
rates. They were the most commodious ships 
afloat, and they made the return voyage mostly 
in ballast, for the exports from Rome were com- 
monly insignificant, and never, certainly, equiva- 
lent to the huge imports of wheat. There was, 
therefore, ample room for passengers, though 
the quarters provided for them would hardly 
have satisfied travellers accustomed to the luxuries 
of modern liners. Then they were largely owned, 
or chartered, by Jews, and their destination was 
in most cases Alexandria, the second capital of 
the Hebrew race. But it is with some of the few 
who took the more direct route by Brundisium, 
the chief point of departure for the eastward- 
bound, that we are at present concerned. 

Raphael had called on Seneca and had made a 

IOI 


The Imperial Pass 

very favourable impression on the philosopher. 
The young Jew was a well educated man, and 
took a wide outlook on life ; while, at the same 
time, the peculiarities of his birth and upbringing 
had left something highly distinctive on his 
character and bearing. It was the first time that 
Seneca had come in contact with a Jew of the 
better type, and the meeting interested him 
intensely as a student of human nature. Then, 
again, he was attracted in his character of a 
philosopher. Seneca was a Stoic in his belief, and 
a Stoic had more things in common with the Jew, 
as regarded God and the ordering of the world, 
than any other kind of thinker. Lastly Seneca 
was a great capitalist who had his investments all 
over the civilized world, and unless he has been 
very much belied, was somewhat fond of money, 
impoverishing the provinces, it was confidently 
asserted, by his usury. Anyhow he was greatly 
taken by the shrewdness and wide knowledge of 
the young Jew, in whom he recognized the 
acuteness and readiness of an expert in finance. 

The conversation of course speedily turned 
to the subject which was the cause of Raphael’s 
visit. 

“ I was much concerned,” said Seneca, “ to 
hear of your father’s condition. How is he 
going on ? ” 


102 


The Imperial Pass 

“ Wonderfully well, for an old man,” replied 
Raphael, “ but the time is very short, and we 
are exceedingly anxious.” 

“ I can receive him here, where he would have 
every comfort of nursing and attendance. Any 
one whom he might desire to bring with him 
would be welcome. The authorities would make 
no objection. In fact the decree of banishment 
would be suspended as far as he and his party 
are concerned. So much I can promise ; I have 
an assurance from the Empress that it shall be 
so. I understand, of course, that he must be 
waited upon by his own people. His attendants, 
therefore, would include any physician that 
may be in charge of him.” 

“ You are kindness itself, sir, but unfortunately 
the difficulty is not removed, and I am afraid is 
not removable. You see — well, my father is — well, 
shall I say old-fashioned ? He keeps rigidly to 
the Law, and the Law as it has been expounded 
and fortified by the ingenuity of generations of 
professional interpreters. As for myself I can’t 
hold with these ways. As long as we were in a 
country of our own they were all well, we could 
live as we pleased, and fix the conditions of life 
for ourselves. If a stranger did not choose to 
conform to them he could keep away. But that 
is changed. We are scattered all over the world, 
103 


The Imperial Pass 

and I venture to think it absurd that we should 
try to carry all these safeguards and prohibitions 
with us wherever we may go. The curious 
thing — I know, sir, that you are interested in these 
matters — is that it is since this dispersion that 
these rules have been made so detailed and, if I may 
say it, impracticable. All this, however, is beside 
the mark just now. The fact is that my father 
would object as strongly to coming under the 
roof of a Gentile host, as he would to being 
attended by a Gentile nurse. And if he were to 
consent, which I may frankly say is impossible, 
then his attendants would object. No, I am 
at my wits’ end. He must travel, whatever his 
condition, for there is simply no place where he 
can stay. His own house, or indeed any Jewish 
house, is impossible, is it not, sir ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Seneca, after a moment’s thought, 

“ I don’t think that any Jewish house could be 
exempted from the operation of the edict.” 

“ And it must be in a Jewish house that he 
stays, if he is to stay anywhere. That is my 
dilemma, and I don’t see any escape from it. He 
must go, and if he goes, I very much doubt 
whether he will live to see Brundisium.” 

Seneca reflected. After a pause he said, 

“ Well, as he must go, there is nothing to be done 
but to ease his going. Of course there will be a 
104 


The Imperial Pass 

considerable crush on the Brundisium road 
during the next ten days. Well, I will get a pass 1 
for your father and you and such attendants as 
he will absolutely want. I should recommend 
you to send the others by the Ostia route. My 
friend Burrhus, who commands, as you know, the 
Praetorians, will, I am sure, oblige you in this 
matter. Your father, I suppose, does not object 
to using one of our public carriages — of course 
he will have it all to himself and his own 
people.” 

“ We are greatly obliged to you, sir,” said 
Raphael. “ This makes our way as plain as it 
can be made.” 

“ One thing more,” Seneca went on, as his 
visitor rose to make his farewells. “ You remem- 
ber the line — one of the wise utterances of the 
Pythian priestess, if I remember right — ‘ Fight 
thou with silver spears, and rule the world,’ but I 
dare say that your own wise men have said some- 
thing of the same kind.” 

1 This pass, or diploma (a Latin or rather a Greek word, 
meaning a paper, or parchment, or tablet, folded in two), was 
a document issued by authority which entitled the bearer to 
be assisted on his journey in any way that he might require, 
with fresh horses, for instance, or convenient carriages. It 
bore the Emperor’s seal and was in theory issued by him, but 
certain great officials, among them the commander of the 
Praetorians, had the power of granting them. 

105 


The Imperial Pass 

“ Yes, indeed,” replied Raphael with a smile ; 
“ as the wise King has it, ‘ A man’s gift maketh 
room for him ; ’ and room, I take it, is exactly 
what will be pretty scarce on the eastward road.” 


106 


CHAPTER XI 

The Gallinarian Wood 

Among the families which were relieved by the 
kindly minstrations of Aquila and his wife was 
one which was always somewhat of a mystery to 
them. The head of the house was very rarely 
to be seen. On the very few occasions when the 
visitors caught a glimpse of him, he did not in the 
least resemble what one might expect in a dweller in 
one of the poorest quarters of Rome. He was 
a tall stalwart fellow, sunburnt to the very 
darkest shade that the complexion of a white man 
could assume, to all appearance a mountaineer 
fresh from his native hills. His wife was, or rather 
had been, a very handsome woman, a native of 
Minturnae, as Priscilla discovered by some chance 
allusion, for she was very reticent as to her pre- 
vious history and her belongings generally. 
She suffered from chronic ague — few of the 
inhabitants of Minturnae, whether they remained 
at home or migrated to other regions, were 
exempt from this plague, which the air of the 
107 


The Gallinarian Wood 


neighbouring marshes 1 had made endemic. There 
were two children, a boy and a girl, singularly 
handsome little creatures, but as wild as hawks. 
The household was wholly unlike the neighbour- 
ing families and emphatically a puzzle. Puz- 
zling, too, were the curious vicissitudes of its cir- 
cumstances. Now and then there seemed to be 
an abundance of means. The wife blossomed 
out, so to speak, in the gay colours and gaudy 
jewels dear to the heart of an Italian woman ; 
the children were made as brilliant as a couple of 
butterflies. The daily fare of the family was 
copious and rich, and its plenty overflowed upon its 
neighbours, for Marulla — this was the name of 
the house-wife — was as generous as she was im- 
provident. Then there were times of the direst 
poverty. The gay garments, and all but the abso- 
lutely necessary clothing, disappeared ; the food 
and the drink were cut down to the very lowest 
at which life could be supported. Indeed, if it 
had not been for the seasonable assistance of 
Priscilla, life itself might have been imperilled. 

Marulla was one of the humble friends to whom 
Priscilla paid a farewell visit. The woman’s 
demeanour was certainly embarrassed. She 

i Famous in history as the place where the great Marius, 
when flying from his victorious enemies, had found a hiding- 
place. 


08 



Priscilla and Marulla 







The Gallinarian Wood 


seemed to be always on the verge of saying some- 
thing which yet she could not bring herself to 
utter. Yet she was even more than usually 
affectionate. Her habit was to be reserved. 
Priscilla knew her to be profoundly grateful for 
kindnesses received, but the gratitude was not 
demonstrative. On this occasion, however, the 
reserve was broken down. When Priscilla was 
about to leave the house, Manilla threw herself 
upon the ground, clasped her round the ankles, 
and passionately kissed her feet, shaken all the 
time with dry convulsive sobs. Priscilla left 
her with an uneasy sense of unexplained mystery 
added to the grief which she felt at the breaking 
up of a life in which she had felt all the 'pure 
pleasure which waits upon disinterested kind- 
ness. 

It was now the eleventh of the fourteen days 
of grace allowed by the edict of banishment, and 
Aquila had arranged to set out on the morrow. 
He and his wife were busy with their final pre- 
parations when an attendant informed them that 
there were two children at the gate who desired 
to speak with the lady Priscilla, having something 
which they must hand to her and no one else. 
“ Bring them here,” she said, and they were 
brought accordingly and turned out to be Mar- 
ulla’s^children. The two, who indeed were 
109 


The Gallinarian Wood 


inseparable, had ventured to come on an errand. 
This was no slight exercise of courage, for their 
home was several hundred yards distant, it was 
late at night, and the elder of the two was but 
eight years old. The boy produced from under 
his belt a scrap of paper, in which was written 
in scarcely legible characters, “ Beware of the 
Pines of Liternum .” 1 

“ Ah ! ” said Aquila, after briefly considering 
the document, “now I understand. Manilla’s 
husband is a brigand. That accounts for his 
open-air look ; yes, and for the short spells of 
prosperity which you noticed in their household 
fortunes. And now I think of it, I see how it 
was that he was at home last autumn. You 
remember how the praetor of the city was 
robbed actually within sight of the walls of Capua. 
That could not be put up with, even by our 
government, and they sent a large force down 
into the Pomptine country. Our brigand saw 
that the game was over for a time and came to 

1 Liternum was at the edge of a pine forest known as the 
Gallinaria Silva. This forest and the adjacent marshes were the 
haunts of brigands. Juvenal, writing some forty years or there- 
abouts after the date of this story, says that the bad characters 
in Rome became much more numerous as often as the Pomp- 
tine marshes and the Gallinarian forest were held by an armed 
force ; the brigands, driven out of their usual haunts, found 
shelter in Rome. 


1 10 


The Gallinarian Wood 


Rome for a change of air. And now let us see 
what is to be done.” 

Happily the workmen in the tent factory had 
not been sent off. They had been kept back, 
contrary to Aquila’s first intentions, to finish an 
order. Instead of sending them round to their 
destination by sea, Aquila resolved to arm them — 
all but one or two happened to be men capable 
of bearing arms — and take them with him by way 
of escort. He also sent word to such of his 
compatriots as he could communicate with at 
so late a time, with a hint that there were dangers 
to be apprehended on the route eastward, and 
that they ought to make preparations for meeting 
them. The result was that a number of parties 
that would otherwise have made the journey 
separately now joined their forces, and so made 
a more than respectable show of strength. For 
the first hundred miles or so of the road nothing 
happened that need be related. At Sinuessa 
however, the landlord of the inn, at which they 
stopped to bait the horses, described a party 
travelling, he said, a few miles in advance, 
which Aquila had no difficulty in identifying 
with that of Manasseh. There was an old man, 
he told them, who was carried in a litter and 
seemed to be in great suffering. He added that 
they had a government pass. He went on more- 
iii 


The Gallinarian Wood 


over to confide to Aquila his suspicion of the 
guide that was in charge. 

“ Rufus,” he said, “ is nothing more or less 
than a scoundrel. He has the reputation of being 
in league with the banditti — we have, as I dare say 
you know, a great many more of these fellows in 
these parts than we like. They don’t harm us, it 
is true, but they destroy the reputation of the road. 
It is certainly a fact that several parties that have 
made the journey under the care of Rufus have 
got into trouble. This may have been an accident. 
If so, Rufus has been very unlucky, and it is as 
bad to be unlucky as it is to be wicked. But what 
is most suspicious in the present affair is that 
Rufus has persuaded the party to go round by 
way of Liternum. It was an easier road, he said, 
and with their invalid to think of, they would 
not really be losing any time by taking it. Well, 
I have lived in this country, man and boy, for 
sixty years, and I never heard of the road by 
Liternum being better than any other. But I 
have heard of its being a great place for banditti. 
The forest runs right up to the town, and the 
road goes through it for a couple of miles or so. 
What with the forest and its thickets and the 
marshes with their byways and their quagmires 
it is a very labyrinth. And the country people 
are in league with the robbers. It is a poor 
1 12 


The Gallinarian Wood 

country and fever-smitten, and the fishermen and 
hunters and peasants find a few gold pieces 
mighty convenient.” 

“ But if you knew all this,” cried Aquila, 
“ why in the world did you not warn the 
party ? ” 

“ My dear sir,” replied the man, “ you are 
asking a little too much of me. I would not 
harm a traveller for all the world : I never did 
such a thing in my life, and I never will. But 
I can’t set myself against the whole country-side. 
As it is, I leave them alone and they leave me 
alone. If a traveller asks me a question I give 
him a true answer, as far as I know it. If your 
friends — I call them your friends, because you 
seem to know them — had asked my advice I 
should have given it them fair and square ; I 
should have said, Keep to the old road, but I 
should not have said, If you go by Liternum you 
will very likely fall among thieves. It would 
have been as much as my life is worth to say it. 
Life at Sinuessa, sir, if you will believe me, is not 
worth very much ; still I am for holding to it as 
long as I can. And now, sir, if I may make bold 
to advise you, I should say, Hurry on. You have 
got a strong party here, and will be more than 
a match for the robbers. Your friends will not 
be very much in advance, and you may very well 

113 H 


The Gallinarian Wood 


come up in time, if they are attacked. Your 
good lady, of course, will stop here. You may 
trust me, sir, to do my best for her ; but if you 
like, leave two or three of your men by way of a 
guard.” 

Priscilla, as might have been expected, scouted 
the idea of being left behind. “ You will want 
every man,” she said, “or, anyhow, the more you 
can put in the field against these villains, the 
better your chance. And I, too, may be of use.” 

Priscilla had made the journey so far in a 
carriage. This was dispensed with for the 
present. The innkeeper furnished a rough pony, 
which she mounted ; and the party started with- 
out losing a moment. One thing became evident 
after some distance had been traversed. The 
guide had simply told a lie when he had recom- 
mended the Liternum road as especially good for 
travelling. It was a by-road and was not in the 
perfect condition which was characteristic of the 
great Roman Viae. This confirmed the inn- 
keeper’s suspicions. And these suspicions were 
soon to be turned into certainty. Between 
the tenth and eleventh milestone — the whole 
distance between Sinuessa and Liternum was 
fourteen miles — the sound of a horse urged at full 
gallop could be plainly heard. The next minute 
the rider cameMn view. He was a young Jew 
114 


The Gallinarian Wood 


who acted as body-servant to Raphael, and was 
known by sight to some of the company. 

“ Thanks be to the Lord of hosts ! ” he cried. 
“ My master and his father are sore beset. Those 
villains of guards have sold us. My master sent 
me back on the chance of finding some help. 
As I was riding off, one of the guards sent an arrow 
after me. By good luck it did nothing more than 
graze my horse’s off hind leg. So it was as good 
as a spur, and he galloped faster than ever. But 
another inch would have lamed him. Hurry 
on, gentlemen ; there is not a moment to lose.” 

Aquila took action immediately. Four of the 
party whose courage and presence of mind he 
had reason to trust were sent on at once on horse- 
back to the supposed scene of action. Their 
instructions were to create a diversion rather than to 
deliver an attack. Their presence would at 
least, he thought, cause some delay in the pro- 
ceedings of the bandits. The rest of the party 
followed with as much speed as they could accom- 
plish. They had in fact but a very short distance 
to traverse. Half an hour’s quick march brought 
them to a spot where the road entered the pine- 
forest, and in another five minutes they came 
upon a full view of the affair. Their own horse- 
men were drawn up across the road, confronted 
by a double row of brigands. On one side of the 

115 


The Gallinarian Wood 


way the treacherous guide could be seen bound to a 
tree. It was afterwards found that he stipulated 
for this treatment, it being a matter of obvious 
policy to show to any spectator, if such should 
chance to present himself, that the bandits 
treated him as they treated their other captives. 
A closer inspection would have shown, first, that 
the bands were by no means inconveniently 
tight, that in fact he could release himself from 
them whenever the farce was played out ; and, 
secondly, that his serene and even smiling counten- 
ance did not seem to express [the feeling that 
might naturally have been expected under the 
circumstances. He looked like a man who had 
made a lucky venture rather than one who had 
met with a disastrous failure, the failure of the 
guide who had unwittingly led his party into 
the midst of a den of robbers. On the other 
side of the road might be seen Raphael in the 
same plight. His bonds, however, were as tight 
as they could be made, and there was certainly 
no smile on his face. Of the escort, all but three 
or four had taken to their heels : these were 
standing in the road, unbound, quite indifferent 
spectators, it might have been thought, of what 
was going on. The road itself was strewed with 
the contents of packages which had been unloaded 
from the mules. The robbers had been busily 
116 


The Gallinarian Wood 


employed in rifling them, when the arrival of 
Aquila’s advanced guard had diverted their 
attention. 

The captain of the brigands felt, as soon as he 
caught sight of the well armed and resolute 
looking party under Aquila’s immediate command 
that his venture had failed, and that the only 
hope for himself and his companions lay in 
immediate flight. He gave a signal, and in a 
few moments every man of the band had dis- 
appeared in the depths of the wood. Aquila 
did not care to pursue them. It was quite 
impossible for him to burden his party with 
prisoners, even if he could have found time to 
capture them. One man, however, remained 
in his hands, and this was the brigand captain. 
He caught his foot in the rope by which one of 
the mules was tethered to a tree, and fell heavily 
to the ground, spraining his ankle severely. The 
followers might be allowed to escape, but the 
captain was a prize which it would not be right 
to neglect. Three of the riders leapt from 
their horses, and secured him, while he was 
still breathless and faint with pain. When a 
few minutes later the captain was exhibited to 
Aquila he recognized at once the mysterious 
mountaineer of the Suburra. The brigand 
captain was no other than Manilla’s husband. 

117 


CHAPTER XII 
Eastward Bound 

The first care of the newcomers was Manasseh. 
The effect of the incident had been to bring him 
perilously near to his end. Weak as he was, he 
was not one to be still while so exciting a drama 
was being enacted round him. He was absolutely 
unable to move from his place ; but he sat up in the 
litter, poured out invectives on the villains who 
had betrayed him, and encouraged his own party 
to do their best in the way of resistance. Of 
course there was a reaction, and when the brief 
conflict had ended in the flight of the robbers, he 
was in a fainting condition. Priscilla had to use all 
her skill and all the appliances she had at hand — 
she was too good a woman ever to leave herself 
without some of the most important “ first aids,” 
as they were understood at the time — before she 
could bring him back to consciousness. His state 
was still doubtful, but he had a vigorous con- 
stitution, and what was not less favourable for 
recovering, an indomitable spirit. 

118 


Eastward Bound 


The next question that pressed for solution was 
the fate of the brigand captain. Some were for 
making short work with him. Why, they asked, 
should they encumber themselves with a villain who 
had plotted to cut all their throats ? “ Deal him,” 

they cried, “ the measure that he would have 
dealt to us, a couple of inches of cold steel.” 

Aquila was more inclined to be merciful. He 
remembered the poor wife. She at least had done 
her best to counteract her husband’s wrong- 
doing ; and he had tender thoughts of the two 
beautiful children. The Corsican took the same 
line for quite different reasons. He considered 
the gigantic stature and mighty thews of the 
prisoner. 

“ He is far too fine a fellow,” he said, “ to be 
made food for crows and ravens. In these times 
it is not a bad thing to have so stout a fellow on 
one’s side, and you have got a chance of getting 
him. Make him swear by whatever he holds 
sacred — all these fellows have some oath which 
they do not like to forswear — that he will be 
faithful to you ; that will be better than handing 
him over to the authorities, who in all probability 
are greater scoundrels than he is.” 

This advice prevailed ; Aquila had, it is true, 
some scruples, but did not feel under the circum- 
stances any special obligation to help the law. 

119 


Eastward Bound 


The brigand told them of a cottage in which he 
could be safely hidden till he was cured of his 
lameness, and to this, after he had given the most 
solemn pledge of good conduct for the future, he 
was conveyed. 

The remainder of the journey to Brundisium 
was completed without any disturbing incidents. 
When that place was reached, it became a question 
what was next to be done ; the usual plan followed 
by travellers bound eastward was to take the short- 
est sea-passage — most landsmen think that the 
less they have of the sea the better — to Apollonia, 
and proceed overland to Corinth. But this 
necessitated more than one change of conveyance, 
and various other inconveniences, which the con- 
dition of Manasseh, who was still hovering be- 
tween death and life, rendered peculiarly un- 
desirable. Aquila, by help of some countrymen 
who were in business at Brundisium, was able to 
hire a roomy galley with as comfortable accom- 
modation for travellers as any ship of the kind 
contained. With this they would make the 
journey direct to the eastern end of the Corin- 
thian Gulf. The whole way would be by sea, 
and for the greater part of the way by the land- 
locked waters of the Gulf. The wounded man 
would so be left in peace, for he would not have 
to be moved till the western port of Corinth was 
120 


Eastward Bound 


reached. The old man was immensely grateful to 
Aquila for thus accommodating his plan of travel 
to his wants. While not at all superior to the 
love of money which is commonly attributed, 
though not always with justice, to his race, he was 
genuinely disappointed at not being allowed to 
pay the whole hire of the ship. To Aquila he 
was gracious, more gracious, possibly, than he had 
ever been to any human being before. He could 
not indeed help being suspicious of his orthodoxy 
as a Jew. Of his real beliefs he had, as may be 
supposed, but the very vaguest idea. That he 
was a disciple of a prophet whom the authorized 
interpreters of the law had condemned was 
enough. He did not care to go behind this fact. 
But he could not help being touched, not only 
by the services rendered to himself, but by the 
transparent goodness and sincerity of the man. 
His feeling towards Priscilla was less complex. 
The veriest churl could not have stood out 
against her charm. It cost him a pang to accept 
her kind offices, Gentile as she was, but he quieted 
his conscience with the plea of necessity. This 
done, he felt no drawback to the delight of her 
companionship. 

Raphael was curiously different from his father, 
and yet even less in sympathy with Aquila. The 
old man had a genuine interest in the glories, and, 
121 


Eastward Bound 


one might even say, the mission of his nation. All 
this was to Raphael mere sentiment. A certain 
pride of race he had ; it pleased him to think that 
his ancestors were princes when Rome was nothing 
more than the refuge of hill-side robbers. And 
this feeling kept alive in him a certain loyalty to 
the national law. At the same time he was 
wholly worldly. Practically he prized his nation- 
ality, not because of any divine promises or 
privileges which were attached to it, but because 
it gave him a vantage ground for aggrandisement. 
He was excellent company ; shrewd, well in- 
formed, with a superficial liberality and width of 
view. 

The voyage from Brundisium to the entrance 
of the Corinthian Gulf was as prosperous and 
easy as could be desired. Scarcely a breath 
ruffled the surface of the sea, and the sick man 
benefited greatly by the quiet. When the ship 
had passed into the Gulf itself, sea troubles and 
dangers might be considered at an end. The little 
wind that there was blew from the south ; it was 
just enough to fill out the sails and help the rowers 
along without raising a sea. 

It was a gay scene that met the travellers’ eyes. 
Visitors were flocking to Corinth for the celebration 
of the Isthmian games, and there were many who 
preferred the route by sea. Those who came, 
122 


Eastward Bound 


for instance, from the western Isles, from Corcyra 
— which had long since made up its old quarrel 
with its mother-city 1 — from Ithaca, from Cephal- 
lonia, especially affected this mode of travel. The 
galleys and merchant vessels were all in holiday 
trim, newly painted for the occasion, their signs 
freshly gilded or silvered, and the masts gay with 
bunting. The fuglemen, who gave the time to 
the rowers, played lively tunes, and the high 
spirits of the crews prompted them to frequent 
races. For many of the travellers the voyage 
could not but be a melancholy business. They 
had been driven from their homes, and the future 
was more or less dark and doubtful. But even 
they found it difficult to resist the infectious 
gaiety of the scene. 

1 This quarrel may be described as the immediate cause of 
the Peloponnesian War. 


123 


CHAPTER XIII 
Corinth 

It was nearly sunset on the fourth day after 
leaving Brundisium when the travellers reached 
Lechaeum, the western port of Corinth. It was 
a busy scene that met their eyes. The harbour 
was crowded with shipping to its utmost capacity. 
The food supply of the city, with its population 
of at least a hundred thousand , 1 as very little 
wheat was grown in its own territories, was in 
itself an important business. The towns and 
villages that bordered the Gulf kept up a constant 
traffic in provisions of all kinds. Cattle and sheep 
were brought in the larger coasting vessels ; corn, 
poultry, market produce, and wine — the native 
growths were proverbially bad — in the smaller. 
The land-locked waters of the Gulf, which only 
grew rough when the wind blew strongly from the 
east or the west, afforded a safe and easy transit 
to even small boats. The city was famous for 

1 Forty thousand of these were free, 60,000 slaves. One 
account gives the number of the latter at 460,000, but this is 
a manifest error. We cannot correct it exactly, but the 
conjecture given is sufficiently probable. 

124 


Corinth 


some fine kinds of tapestry, and for the celebrated 
bronze to which it had given its name, an alloy 
of copper with varying proportions of gold and 
silver, and it had the greatest share of the carry- 
ing trade between Europe and Asia. 

The Jewish community was large and wealthy, 
as it was certain to be in any place where commerce 
was in the ascendant. Manasseh had, of course, 
his correspondents, who had been warned of his 
coming, Raphael having taken the precaution of 
sending a message by the shorter overland route. 
A litter was in attendance, and a physician, whose 
services however were scarcely needed, the quiet 
voyage over the placid waters of the Gulf having 
been of the greatest service to the invalid. Archias 
also had been apprised in the same way of the 
intended arrival of Aquila. Etiquette did not 
permit so distinguished a person as the chief 
magistrate of the city to meet a stranger in person, 
but he had sent a warm invitation to Aquila and 
his wife to consider his house as their home as long 
as they might remain in Corinth. Of this, how- 
ever, they did not avail themselves. They were 
not willing to give offence to the Jewish com- 
munity, as they certainly would have done by 
taking up their residence in what may be called 
the Corinthian Mansion House. They were 
aware, also, that many of those who would be 

125 


Corinth 


going to and fro in such a place would not be 
as desirable acquaintance as was Archias. And 
above all they wished to be independent and to 
lead their own lives. Aquila abhorred above all 
things a life without regular employment, and 
proposed to himself to carry on, in however small 
a way, the business which he had been obliged to 
intermit at Rome, and Priscilla was intent on 
finding a scope for her own favourite activities. 
They had, accordingly, bespoken accommodation 
in one of the Jewish hostelries, intending to look 
about at their leisure for a more permanent home. 
To an agent of this establishment, who happened 
to be on the ship, they committed their belongings 
while they themselves made the journey on foot, 
finding this a welcome change from the long con- 
finement in the close quarters of the ship. 

The distance between the harbour and the city 
was a little less than a mile and a half. The road 
was level and kept in excellent repair, with a wall 
strengthened by towers and redoubts on either side . 1 
Some of the objects which would have attracted 
the notice of the ordinary visitor were passed 
unheeded or indeed with intentional neglect by 
the travellers. The harbour itself was dominated 
by a stately temple of the sea-god, Poseidon ; a 

1 These walls closely resembled the Long Walls by which 
Athens was connected with the harbour of Piraeus. 

126 


Corinth 

little further along the road to the city there was 
a shrine of the Olympian Zeus, and still nearer to 
the city, on either side of the road, were gor- 
geously gilded chariots, one of the Sun, the other 
of the luckless Phaethon. One object, however, 
Aquila and his wife were able to inspect with a 
good conscience, and this was the famous fountain 
of Peirene. It lay a little away from the road. 
The enclosure may have measured some twenty 
feet each way. All round it ran continuous seats 
of white marble. In the centre was the spring, 
a basin also of white marble, in which the water 
bubbled up continuously from some source deep 
in the earth beneath. The whole was shaded by 
plane-trees and limes. It was evidently a favour- 
ite resort ; all the seats in the marble enclosure 
were occupied, while an unbroken line of women, 
young and old, were carrying away full pitchers 
from the spring. The water had a reputation, 
not only for purity and vivacity, but for its health- 
giving qualities. Inhabitants even of distant 
quarters of the city made a point of being sup- 
plied with it. It was even sent considerable 
distances. It had also the reputation of being 
specially useful in some manufactures. No 
Corinthian bronze was held to have been rightly 
made, if it had not been tempered in the waters 
of Peirene. Aquila was specially interested in 
127 


Corinth 


seeing that some of the old habitues of the place 
were passing the time with a game of draughts. 
The sight brought back to him one of the recol- 
lections of early days when he had studied the 
literature of Greece. “ See,” he said to Priscilla, 
“ how curiously it happens that some of the trifles 
in human life seem to survive, when the graver 
things pass away. There is scarcely a thing in 
Corinth now that is as much as a hundred and 
twenty years old. But the old men are playing 
draughts just as they did in Medea’s time twelve 
hundred years ago.” As he spoke two thirsty 
lads, fresh from their game in the playing-field 
hard by, came to procure a drink at the spring. 
“ Why ! ” he cried, “ there is another survival ! 
Those two boys might be Medea’s children, and 
that old man there their tutor. It is Euripides 
to the very life ! ” 1 

1 In the opening scene of Euripides’ drama of Medea , the 
nurse communicates to the tutor of the two children (the 
tutor being not the teacher but the slave who looked after them 
as they went to school and came back) her fears about their 
future. She points to them as they are resting from their play, 
happily unconscious of the troubles that are near. He in his 
turn relates what he has heard. He had been at the “ Draughts,” 
where the old men of Corinth were wont to sit near the “ Holy 
Spring” of Peirene, and had heard, while not seeming to 
listen, how the King of Corinth intended to banish Medea 
and her children from the city. The passage is obscure, but 
it is usually translated in this way, the spot indicated being 
called after the game which was commonly played there. 

128 


CHAPTER XIV 
A Young Champion 

The financial business between Aquila and Archias 
was very speedily settled. Aquila was permitted 
to inspect the books of the two custom-houses, 
and found, as he expected, that the receipts were 
fully equal to what had been represented. He 
had provided himself, on his part, with bills of 
exchange, drawn by houses in Rome on bankers 
in Corinth. In the course of twenty-four hours 
the money was actually handed over. Much of 
it had been already expended, for time pressed, 
the preparations for the great Festival could not 
wait, and the Archon had taken upon himself the 
responsibility of ordering the necessary works. The 
risk, as a matter of fact, was of the very smallest ; 
so wealthy a city as Corinth would not have to go 
begging for a loan ; capitalists, instead of hanging 
back, would compete for the privilege of accom- 
modating her. Still it was a relief to Archias, as 
the responsible person, to have the matter defi- 
129 1 


A Young Champion 

nitely settled, and he was proportionately grateful. 
When he expressed his thanks, he naturally asked 
whether there was any matter of business in which 
he could be of service. Aquila, in reply, men- 
tioned his wish to set up in Corinth the manufac- 
ture which he had been compelled to discontinue 
in Rome, and said that he should be thankful for 
any information or introduction that the Chief 
Magistrate could give. Archias could not con- 
ceal his surprise at the request. 

“ My dear sir,” he exclaimed, “ you will excuse 
me if I say that this sounds to me very strange 
You have just made a very considerable loan to the 
city, and this, I imagine, is not your only invest- 
ment — excuse me if I seem to show an indiscreet 
curiosity as to your affairs — so that you obviously 
have a sufficient income at your command, and yet 
you are anxious to take up a not very interesting 
handicraft. What does it all mean, if I may be 
bold enough to ask the question ? ” 

“ I am following,” replied Aquila, “ what is, I 
may say, the universal custom amongst us. There 
is no Jew, however rich or nobly born, but is set to 
learn in his boyhood some trade or craft. Perhaps 
I ought to except our priestly caste. With them 
it is not an obligation, though as a matter of fact 
it is often done even by them, but every one else, 
however assured his position, however remote the 
130 


A Young Champion 

chance of his having to use it as a means of liveli- 
hood, is taught some craft. It is as regular 
a part of his training and education as are his 
books.” 

“ Well,” said Archias, “ you surprise me. What 
would Plato have said to such a notion ? He was 
against allowing the handicraftsman any share in 
the government of his ideal city. You have read 
the Republic ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Aquila, “ I have read it with 
the greatest admiration, though I should not 
care to live in a state so modelled — nor, I fancy, 
would any one else.” 

“ Possibly,” said the magistrate, “ but you will 
remember what he says : — 7 be really good State 
does not make the artisan a citizen. What do you 
say to that ? ” 

“ Well,” replied the Jew, “ I shall not presume 
to argue the question with the greatest of the 
philosphers on first principles. It is not difficult, 
however, to make you see our Jewish standpoint. 
We Jews have always felt that our position was 
very precarious. We were a small people in a 
scrap of territory which might be set down and 
fairly lost in the enormous empires on either side. 
We might be torn away any day from our place 
and our belongings. What could be more reason- 
able than that every man should be provided with 

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A Young Champion 

the means of earning his bread in any extremity 
to which he might be reduced. Your Plato, you 
will remember, acknowledges that a state cannot 
exist without the activities which these same 
artisans practise. This is our justification. Let 
us take care, we say, to provide ourselves with 
something which will make us useful or even 
necessary wherever we go. We may have house, 
land, money taken from us ; but the manual skill 
will still be left to us, and with it, whatever the 
circumstances, the means of making a livelihood. 
The practice was always popular with us, but it 
became a fixed rule after the terrible experience 
of the Great Captivity. And let me ask you a 
question. What is your experience as a magis- 
trate ? Whom do you find the best citizen, the 
most useful, the most law-abiding, the most 
amenable to discipline, the soldiers whom Plato 
would have made dominant in his State, or the 
artisans ? ” 

The Archon smiled, but did not think it 
necessary to answer the question. 

“ To return to the business immediately in 
hand,” he went on after a short pause for consider- 
ation, ‘ 6 I think that I see my way to helping you 
to what you want. There is a very respectable man 
who has a business of the kind you speak of, who 
is obliged to come to an arrangement with his 

132 


A Young Champion 

creditors. It is not through any fault of his ; 
his health has failed him, and he will have to 
realize as best he can. His case came before me 
two or three days ago, and will be coming on again 
to-morrow.” 

A satisfactory arrangement was made. The 
tradesman in question was able, by Aquila’s 
liberality, to make an unexpectedly satisfactory 
arrangement of his affairs. The business was 
handed over, and thanks to the capital and energy 
of the new chief, rapidly developed into a prosper- 
ous concern. 

In one member of the family with which Aquila 
was brought into contact, he and his wife were 
more than usually interested. This was the eld- 
est son, Eubulus by name, a remarkably handsome 
young man of twenty or thereabouts. Eubulus 
had been entered for the long foot race at the 
approaching Games, and was first favourite among 
those who were best qualified to judge of the 
merits of the candidates. Athletics could not be 
cultivated in those days without considerable 
cost, any more than they can now. The training 
demanded the candidate’s whole time, and his 
usual occupation had to be suspended, even if he 
earned his livelihood by it. It was necessary to 
employ a trainer, and trainers who were neces- 
sarily more or less of experts made their fees heavy, 
133 


A Young Champion 

after the manner of their kind. Then the actual 
food, which had to be of the very best, was a serious 
matter, at least to persons of narrow income. The 
ordinary Greek lived mainly on bread and vege- 
tables. What we call “ meat,” as being the chief 
article of diet, was expressed by a word which 
really meant “ relish.” But on this the athlete 
had to live, and it at least tripled the cost of his 
daily fare. As long as Eubulus’s father could keep 
his business going, these expenses were somehow 
met, though with a constantly increasing difficulty. 
When what may be called his bankrup tcy happened 
all this came to an end. The state of affairs which 
had been as far as possible concealed from the 
young man was now a matter of common know- 
ledge, and he was the first to see that his hopes 
must be given up. It was then that Aquila, or 
perhaps it would be more accurate to say Priscilla, 
came to the rescue. His private resources were 
more or less crippled by the events of the last 
few weeks ; hers had not been seriously affected 
by them. It was her doing therefore, that 
Eubulus was enabled to persevere in his candida- 
ture. He might if he pleased consider the outlay 
as a debt ; anyhow it was mere prudence to allow 
it to be made. What could be more wasteful 
than to let the expenditure already incurred be 
wholly lost ? The young man could not refuse 
*34 


A Young Champion 

an offer so graciously made, and applied himself 
with redoubled energy to his preparations. 

It must be allowed that Aquila was visited by 
certain misgivings when he found himself in- 
directly concerned in the matter ; nor were these 
misgivings diminished by the fact that he could 
not help feeling a certain interest in the young 
man’s success. All his traditions and preposses- 
sions as a Jew were adverse to the Games which 
figured so largely in Greek life. As a patriot, he 
could not help remembering that it was the 
introduction of this very thing into the Holy City 
itself that had marked the very lowest point of 
degradation to which his people had descended. 
Even when the armies of the Chaldeans “ had made 
Jerusalem a heap of stones ” the same depth of 
ignominyhadnot been reached. That was to be 
seen in the days when the High Priest of the 
time had changed the most heroic of Hebrew 
names for one of the least creditable of the Greek 
legendary heroes, had been content to be a Jason 
instead of a Joshua ; when a gymnasium had been 
built after a Greek pattern within the walls of 
the city, when sons of Aaron had actually demeaned 
themselves by running, stripped in the shameless 
Greek fashion, on a racecourse marked out almost 
within the precincts of the Temple. The dis- 
grace had indeed been averted ; men had died 
135 


A Young Champion 

rather than submit to the ignominy, and the reaction 
of patriotism and faith had brought about the 
glorious epoch of the Maccabees. Such thoughts 
troubled Aquila not a little. We shall see how he 
found a certain relief from them. 


136 


CHAPTER XV 
Paul of Tarsus 

Aquila had not been many days in Corinth 
before he found that he was in closer contact 
with the new movement in religion, the “ Way,” 
as it is commonly called in the earliest Church 
history , 1 than he had been in Rome. Paul, the 
great preacher of the Christian faith, had been 
for some time carrying it westward. It had but 
lately reached Europe, and was but little known 
there, but it had become a power in a region 
which was in close communication with Europe, 
the lesser Asia. On the second day after Aquila 
had taken over the business mentioned in the 
last chapter, he found on arriving at the ware- 

1 So in Acts ix. 2. Paul goes from Jerusalem to Damascus 
with the intention of laying hands on any whom he might find 
in the latter city “ of the Way.” So again in Acts xix. 9 the 
unbelieving Jews are described as speaking evil of “ the Way,” 
and in xxiv. 22, Felix the Roman governor, is said to have 
more perfect knowledge of “ the Way.” The authorized 
version has “ that way ” in the passages ; the revised version 
has “ the Way ” (spelling it with a capital letter). 

137 


Paul of Tarsus 


house that a visitor was waiting to see him. The 
stranger explained that he had business relations 
with Aquila’s predecessor, and that he had come 
to find out why an order which he had sent had 
not been executed. He was, he said, a merchant 
of Ephesus, and his name was Trophimus. The 
business affair was soon disposed off, but not 
till the stranger had been favourably impressed 
with the intelligence and general demeanour 
of the new manager. Conversation turned to 
general topics ; and as various matters of interest 
common to both were discussed, was prolonged 
to the time of the noonday meal. Aquila 
invited his customer to join him, not a little to 
the latter’s surprise, a feeling which he could not 
help betraying by his looks, though he was, of 
course, too polite to express it in words. 

“ You are thinking,” said Aquila with a smile, 
“ that this is a somewhat unusual civility for one 
of my race to show to one of yours.” 

“ I must own,” answered Trophimus, “ that 
the thought did cross my mind. Of course 
there are Jews who are ‘ hail, fellow, well met ’ 
with any one who will treat them to a flagon of 
wine ; but they are not of your sort. As a rule, 
I much prefer dealing with men who, outside 
business, keep me very strictly at arm’s length. 
It is not exactly flattering to one’s pride, but 
138 


Paul of Tarsus 


then I find that these men meet their engage- 
ments and the others do not. But I know 
some exceptions.” 

“ For myself,” said Aquila, “ I have learnt, I 
hope, a more excellent way. I quite see that 
our old exclusiveness had its use and purpose. 
We had to keep ourselves separate from the 
world, because we were taking care of something 
which we could not take care of in any other 
way. But that is all over now. In Him,” he 
went on, speaking as it were to himself, “ there 
is neither Jew nor Greek.” 

Trophimus caught eagerly at the words. 
“ What ! ” he cried, “ did I hear you aright ? 

‘ In Him there is neither Jew nor Greek ? 5 
These are the very words I have heard again and 
again in the mouth of one of the very noblest of 
men.” 

“ And who is that ? ” asked Aquila. 

“ Paul of Tarsus,” was the answer. 

“ Ah,” said Aquila, “ I have heard something 
about him, and have always wanted, I cannot 
say how much, to hear more. And you know 
him ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied the Greek, “ it is my privilege 
to know him. Indeed, I may venture to call 
him my friend.” 

“ This,” said Aquila, “ this is the happiest of 
139 


Paul of Tarsus 


fortunes. But come, we must put off this talk, 
which must not on any account be hurried over, 
till we are more at leisure. The meal is waiting 
for us.” 

As the two sat at table, the talk naturally 
turned to the subject of the family from whom 
Aquila had taken over the business. Trophimus 
was particularly anxious to hear what had been 
done with Eubulus, “ a most promising lad,” he 
remarked, “ and likely, according to all accounts, 
to distinguish himself greatly.” 

Aquila briefly related what had taken place, 
and did not fail to explain that what had been 
done in the matter had been done at his wife’s 
suggestion. 

“ For myself,” he went on, “ I must own 
that I feel a little doubtful about it. Very 
likely you will think it a prejudice. Now what 
do you think your friend Paul would say to it ? ” 

“ Well,” replied Trophimus, “ that is not a 
very easy thing to answer. I cannot imagine 
him going as a spectator to see a foot-race or 
anything else of the kind. That would not be 
at all in his way. He has his thoughts wholly 
fixed on other things ; he is not one who would 
dream of amusing himself in that, or indeed in 
any other way. But I don’t suppose that he 
looks upon these things as wrong. And I will tell 
140 


Paul of Tarsus 


you why I think so. I have heard him speak of 
them over and over again. He uses them as 
convenient images and comparisons for the 
spiritual things which it is his business to speak 
about, and to bring home to the minds of others. 
For instance he makes a great point of discipline ; 
a man must not let himself be led away by the 
desires of the flesh. I have heard him, when he 
was preaching on this subject, use a metaphor 
which he borrowed from the boxing-ring. 6 1 
buffet my body,’ 1 was the term he used. There 
is another term of the same kind which I have 
heard him use, and taken from the same source. 
Our boxers have a way of practising their art at 
a lay figure or a post. We call it c shadow 
fighting.’ Well ; I heard Paul say that the 
disciple’s conflict with enemies, without and 
within, was to be nothing of that kind. He was 
not to be as one that beats the air. Then I have 
heard him speaking of life as a training, as a race, 
where the runner must keep his eye fixed on the 
goal. 2 Now I don’t think that he would use this 
language if he thought that there was absolute 

1 HupOpiazO (v7rcD7ria£<i>) is the phrase used by St. Paul in 
i Cor. ix. 27. The word means literally to strike a blow under 
the eyes ; and is obviously a technical phrase which would be 
used by boxers. 

2 The runner, it was commonly said, was most likely to 
faint when his eye was turned away from the end of the race. 

141 


Paul of Tarsus 


wrong in these things. They don’t appeal to 
him ; how should they when his heart is so taken 
up with his work ? but he is quite willing to 
make them serve his purpose in his own way.” 

“ All this,” said Aquila, “ I am very glad to 
hear, and so will my wife be. It has troubled 
her that we did not quite see eye to eye in the 
matter.” 

This was the first of many conversations. 
Nor was Trophimus the only acquaintance with 
whom he discussed the same subject. Attending 
on the next Sabbath the synagogue worship, he 
was much struck with a stranger who had been 
asked to officiate. This man, whose name was 
Achaicus, was a Jew, a resident in another of the 
Asiatic towns which had business with Corinth. 
He came of a family of Scribes and had been 
educated accordingly, but had been compelled 
by various circumstances to follow commercial 
life. He was known, however, for his piety and 
learning, and on his not unfrequent visits to 
Corinth he was commonly asked to officiate. 
The Jewish community was wholly mercantile, 
and the persons qualified to lead the service 
were few in number. The stranger asked for the 
roll of the Prophet Isaiah, and read from it the 
passage which we know as the fifty-third chapter. 
The discourse which he afterwards delivered was 
142 


Paul of Tarsus 


full of significance to at least one of his hearers. 
It was not, of course, such as a preacher of the 
present day might found on the passage. A 
distinct and direct identification of the majestic 
sufferer described by the prophet with Jesus of 
Nazareth would have been wholly out of place. 
The audience would have failed to understand 
it ; or, if they did catch a glimpse of such a 
meaning, would have been offended. But to 
instructed ears, such as were Aquila’s, what was 
said had much meaning. He eagerly seized 
the earliest opportunity of conversing with the 
stranger, and heard more about the great preacher’s 
ways of thinking than Trophimus had been able 
to tell him. It would not serve any useful 
purpose to attempt to reproduce the account 
which Achaicus gave of Paul. Much that he 
said had come to him by common report and 
was naturally inexact and exaggerated. We all 
know that contemporary history is sometimes 
that of which our knowledge is the least accurate. 
Anyhow, we may be certain that the narrative 
of the Apostle’s faithful companion during the 
later years of his life 1 and the reference in his 
own letters to the Christian Churches give us a 
far better idea of what he was and what he 
taught than we could get from the impressions 
1 St. Luke, the author of the Acts. 

143 


Paul of Tarsus 


of one so situated as was Achaicus, however 
sincere his devotion. One story, however, may 
be given which, though not included in the 
authentic record as we have it in the Canon of 
Scripture, has an undoubted foundation in fact . 1 

“ It was in Antioch of Pisidia that I was first 
privileged to make the great teacher’s acquain- 
tance. I had gone thither on business and found 
the city in a great state of commotion. My host 
could talk of nothing else but the discourse a 
stranger had delivered in the Synagogue on the 
preceding Sabbath. My host was a devout man, 
one whose thoughts were greatly filled with 
hopes of the redemption of Israel, and what he 
had heard had appealed to all that was best in 
him as nothing had ever appealed before. The 
stranger had, he told me, a companion, a man 
of most majestic presence and of a singularly 
benevolent expression. He had read the Scrip- 
ture for the day, and had added a few words, 
very solemn and impressive, and delivered with 
an affecting earnestness of manner. But the other 
man was the great speaker. He was scarcely 
an orator ; his style was curiously involved ; 
his delivery harsh and ungraceful ; his personal 
presence feeble and unimpressive. Yet his speech 
had irresistible power ‘ with the storm of his 

1 See note at the end of the book on The Acts of Thekla. 

I44 


Paul of Tarsus 


fast coming words like the drift of the winter 
tide snows.’ There was a great gathering to 
hear him. The synagogue was filled from end 
to end ; and outside there was an immense 
audience of Gentiles. All the city seemed to 
have come together. I never saw such enthusi- 
asm. Every face seemed to glow with joy and 
hope. One might have thought that every 
man and woman in the crowd had heard the 
news of some personal good fortune. But you 
know that there are hearts which nothing can 
touch, and I am afraid that nowhere will you 
find them so seared and hardened as among our 
own countrymen. Well, there were some in the 
audience that day who heard this noble teaching 
with the blackest rage in their hearts. That 
day, and for some time afterwards, they could 
do nothing. But they bided their time. They 
went about with slanders and calumnies ; one 
kind of ware for the Jews and one for the Gen- 
tiles. So they worked and worked away, till 
they turned the whole city, one might say, 
against the preacher of the € Way.’ Well ; we 
have no right to be surprised. It is just what 
happened to the Master himself. One day all 
Jerusalem was shouting out c Hosannah to the 
Son of David,’ and two or three days after it 
was screaming, c Crucify Him ! Crucify Him ! ’ 

145 K 


Paul of Tarsus 


The end of it was that the two had to fly for 
their lives from Antioch. At my suggestion 
they came to Iconium. I thought that I might 
do something for them there, for it was my own 
city. Well, their enemies did not leave them 
alone. They followed them and laid charges 
of disloyalty to Caesar, and I know not what 
else before the Iconium magistrates. Then I 
put in a word ; and did so, I hope, to some purpose. 
I had business relations with some of them, and 
they had reasons for wishing to oblige me. They 
could not very well dismiss the charge at once ; 
but they did what they could. They committed 
the accused to the charge of one of themselves . 1 
He was to have them in his keeping till they 
should be called upon to make a regular answer 
to what was brought against them. Now comes 
in the curious part of my story. 

“ Just opposite the magistrate’s house was the 
dwelling of one of the richest men in the city. 
The street was very narrow, you will understand, 
with just room for foot passengers to pass back- 
wards and forwards. This man had a daughter, 
Thekla by name, a very beautiful girl who was 
1 This was a practice known to the Roman law under the 
name of Libera Custodia. So in our own history some of the 
bishops deprived after the accession of Queen Elizabeth were 
committed to the charge of the Archbishop of Canterbury and 
other prelates. 


146 


Paul of Tarsus 


about to be married to one of the most promising 
young men in Iconium. One night — it was 
very shortly after the prisoners had been com- 
mitted — there was a little gathering in the 
chamber where they were lodged. The magis- 
trate was there with his two grown-up sons ; I 
was there also and I had brought some friends 
with me. Altogether there might have been 
some fifteen persons. Paul spoke to us about 
giving up everything for Christ — money, family, 
home, all that was nearest and dearest to us. 
He was like to a man inspired, and his voice rose 
as if he were speaking not to less than a score of 
hearers, but to thousands. Thekla sat at the 
window of her chamber on the second floor, and 
she heard every word ; and what she heard went 
straight to her heart. It seemed to her like a 
message from God. A couple of hours or so later 
she went across to the magistrate’s house and 
bribed the man who was in charge of the prisoners 
with a silver bracelet to let her into their room. 
What Paul said to her I know not. That he told 
her to do what she did I do not believe for a mo- 
ment, but it is easy enough to understand how 
she may have come to think that he did. Well, 
the next day she sent for her betrothed. First 
she tried persuasion. Would he release her from 
the engagement ? She would not marry him ; 

147 


Paul of Tarsus 


she was called to other things ; she must serve 
God. All this was like an unknown tongue to 
the young man. ‘ Is she mad ? 5 he said to him- 
self. It might be so, but she seemed quite rational 
in her way of talking, and to be quite sure of 
her own mind. He did his best to persuade 
her, but he might as well have talked to a rock. 
Then naturally he went to her father. The 
father, an old man, passionately fond of his 
daughter, did all that he could to bring her 
to another way of thinking. When she was 
obstinately set on her own way, he grew angry. 
He would shut her up till she came to a better 
way of thinking. And so he did. But he was 
not thorough enough in his proceedings. He 
left her her jewellery, and with that the way of 
getting out of her prison. All the household 
idolized her. Very likely she could have got 
away without a bribe ; but with a bribe she 
was irresistible. One morning, three or four 
days after the beginning of this affair, she was 
gone. She had heard, it seems, that Paul and 
his companion, who by this time had been 
released by the magistrates on condition that 
they would leave Iconium without delay, had 
gone on to Lystra. She followed them alone. 
Imagine that ! a girl who had never been outside 
her home without^ two or three attendants ! I 
148 


Paul of Tarsus 


doubt, in fact, whether she had ever set foot 
on the ground outside her father’s house and 
garden. Somehow she missed them. Possibly 
they had taken another route ; possibly she had 
been misinformed. Anyhow she never came up 
with them. When she was about a mile from 
Lystra, the Eparch of the city overtook her. 
He was a priest of the local Temple of the Julian 
House — they have a cult there of Julius the 
Dictator and Augustus — and he was coming 
home from a function at which he had been 
assisting. He was wearing his priestly robe — 
that you will see turned out to be an important 
point. It was an amazing thing, as you may 
suppose, for a beautiful young woman, richly 
dressed, to be seen walking alone on the public 
road. He got down from his chariot, and asked 
her to ride with him. She refused. He put 
his hand on her shoulder. She turned round, 
and in trying to wrest herself away, she caught 
her hand in his robe and made a great rent in it. 
He was of course in a furious rage, and bade his 
lictors arrest her. The men handcuffed her, 
put her into a car which was following the 
Eparch’s chariot and so brought her to Lystra. 

“ I don’t know exactly the particulars of what 
followed. Thekla was brought before the Eparch 
and the other magistrates of the town. He 
149 


Paul of Tarsus 


was, of course, furious, and then she had certainly- 
insulted a priest and torn the sacred robe. Still 
she had had provocation, and the tearing was 
plainly an accident. There must have been 
something more. She may have used strong 
words about the local gods. Even the Greeks, as 
you know, look down upon this particular kind of 
worship. It seems anyhow that there was some 
further offence beyond the blow and the tearing 
of the robe, for the sentence was a very heavy one, 
the heaviest that could be inflicted. Thekla was 
found guilty of blasphemy, and was sentenced 
to suffer death by being exposed to wild beasts. 
There was to be a show in two or three days’ time. 

“ What was to be done with her in the mean- 
time ? The magistrates had some conscience ; 
or perhaps her youth and beauty moved them. 
She was not to be thrown into the common gaol, 
but to be committed to the charge of Queen 
Tryphaena, the widow, you must know, of some 
Thracian king. 

“ Well, the Queen was much taken with the 
maiden. It seemed to her a monstrous thing 
that an innocent woman, who after all had 
done nothing but what became a woman, should 
be dealt with in such a fashion. She did all 
that she could with the magistrates to induce 
them to commute the sentence for something 
150 


Paul of Tarsus 

less shocking ; but it was to no purpose. The 
day came on and the theatre was pretty well 
filled — you know that such exhibitions are not to 
the taste of the better class of Greeks, but there 
are always numbers of brutal or foolish persons 
who would crowd to see anything horrible or 
exciting. The Queen herself went, not, of course, 
because she had any of this wretched curiosity, 
but simply because she could not bear to leave 
the girl to her fate, and she hoped against hope 
that even at the last she might be able to do 
something for her. When her turn came Thekla 
was led into the arena, and bound to a stake that 
was set up in the middle of it. One of the gates 
of the dens in which the wild beasts are kept was 
opened and a lion came bounding out. Then 
the spectators seemed to realize for the first time 
what was going on. They saw this beautiful 
girl fastened to the stake and doomed to the 
most horrible of deaths. A Roman crowd is used 
to such sights, but in a Greek city they are rare, 
and, indeed, would never have been seen at all 
but for the Roman rule. Anyhow, there was a 
great cry of horror, so loud that it seemed to 
terrify the beast ; at all events it stopped short, 
and stood a few yards from the door of the cage 
lashing its tail to and fro. Then there was a 
shrill cry which was heard above all the din. 

151 


Paul of Tarsus 

It came from the Queen. The horror of the 
scene had been too much for her. The next 
moment she fainted. Well, she could not have 
done anything more effectual to stop the affair. 
The town clerk whispered to the chief magistrate, 
c This is a bad business, my lord. QueenTryphaena 
is a kinswoman of Augustus, and if anything 
should happen to her, we should be held account- 
able. It is evident, too, that the people don’t 
like it.’ The end of it was that the magistrate 
gave orders that everything possible should be 
done to save Thekla. Happily this turned out 
to be a fairly easy business. The lion was some- 
what cowed by the noise ; anyhow his keeper had 
very little difficulty in getting him back to his 
den. The girl was unbound and put in the 
charge of the Queen again, and remained with her 
for some weeks. During this time the young 
man to whom she had been promised in marriage 
was killed out hunting. This made the situation 
easier. Her parents were not bitter against 
her ; but as long as the young man lived, they 
could hardly help acting, for he belonged to a 
very influential family. She did not go back to 
Iconium ; that under the circumstances would 
have been hardly prudent ; but a Christian 
home was found for her somewhere. There she 
busies herself with woman’s work among the 
poor of the faith, and is greatly beloved.” 

152 


CHAPTER XVI 
A Secret 

It had been arranged that Eumenes, the trades- 
man whose business Aquila had purchased, 
should devote a few hours daily to instructing 
his successor in various details of manufacture 
and commercial arrangement which it would be 
to his advantage to know. Eumenes belonged 
to the sufficiently numerous class who may be 
described as excellent servants and indifferent 
masters. He knew all that there was to know 
about his business, and yet had not been able to 
manage it with success. So lucid were his 
explanations, so full of common sense his sugges- 
tions, that Aquila could not but feel that he 
should miss him very much, and began to consider 
whether he would not offer him the post of 
manager. The experiment was not, however, 
to be tried. After a fortnight or so, Eumenes 
asked for an interview, and informed him that a 
very desirable post had been offered him at 
Mantinea, a considerable town in Arcadia. 

153 


A Secret 


“ I am really sorry to go,” he said. “ I have 
never been so comfortable here as I have been 
since you took the place over. I shall always 
be grateful to you. You have been very generous 
in your dealings with me, though I do hope and 
trust that you will make a good thing of it in the 
end. And now, sir, I am going to ask you to do 
me a favour. It does not concern me so much 
as it does my son Eubulus. There, again, you 
and your good wife have been kindness itself, 
and so I make bold to ask you. I call him my 
son ; every one thinks that he is ; he thinks so 
himself ; but he is not. When he was a baby 
he was put in charge of my dear wife, who has 
been dead these three years. We lived in those 
days at Sicyon, and when we removed to this city, 
and he came with us — he was then a year old — we 
spoke of him as if he were a child of our own. 
If you ask me whose son he is, I tell you quite 
truly that I don’t know, although I could know 
if I thought right. Let me explain. When the 
child was given into my wife’s charge there was 
sent with him a purse containing a hundred 
pieces of gold — I bought this business with the 
money — a document drawn up by a notary, and 
a casket. The casket and the document I have 
brought with me to-day. The casket was locked, 
as it has been locked ever since it came into my 
154 


A Secret 

possession. When you read the paper you will 
see why.” 

Eumenes took this paper from the case in 
which it was kept, unrolled it and handed it to 
Aquila. It ran thus : 

“ For reasons which I beg Eunice and Eumenes 
to take on trust as sufficient, I give my son into 
their charge to be brought up as their own child. 
I am convinced that it will be for his greater 
happiness that this should be his lot in life. But 
I do not hide from myself the possibility that I 
may be wrong, or that circumstances may arise 
which will make it necessary that what I would 
fain conceal should be made known. In the 
casket that accompanies this paper are the proofs 
of his parentage. I charge Eunice and Eumenes 
to leave them undisturbed until the necessity shall 
arise of using them. Nothing, I am sure, could 
be more to my son’s advantage than that he 
should live and die in ignorance of his parentage ; 
if, however, the necessity should arise, let the 
casket be opened and the instructions therein 
contained acted upon.” 

Eumenes went on : “ I do not conceive that 
the necessity has arisen ; but it seems to me that 
it may not improbably arise within a short time. 
It may be that if Eubulus wins the race for which 
he is in training, he may be accepted without 
155 


A Secret 


challenge as my son ; it is possible on the other 
hand, that he may be required to prove himself 
of pure Greek descent — no one, as you probably 
know, is permitted to compete in these games 
unless he can bring forward such proof. If 
that should happen, the casket must be opened. 
It only remains to show you how this is to be done. 
The lock is a letter lock, and the secret of opening 
it is the lad’s name, Eubulus. Bring the letters 
into this order and the thing is done.” 

Aquila would fain have declined the responsi- 
bility, though he did not like to meet the request 
with a direct refusal. He did, indeed, suggest 
that some more influential person should be 
asked to assume the charge. He mentioned 
Archias. 

Eumenes expressed unfeigned respect for the 
chief magistrate, but thought that there were 
serious objections. 

“ The archon,” he said, “ is overwhelmed 
with business, especially in this year with its 
special celebration of the Games. He is com- 
pelled to do much through others. Any specially 
confidential matter — and this is certainly of that 
character — would be better bestowed, if possible, 
elsewhere. I am sure, my dear sir, that there 
is no one available who could be better suited 
for it than you.” 


156 


A Secret 


Aquila could not but yield to these arguments, 
and had to content himself with the hope that 
he should not be called upon to act. That the 
transference of the guardianship was not in itself 
a sufficient cause for opening the casket he 
willingly allowed. After all, he thought to 
himself, of this Eumenes must be the judge ; if 
Eumenes is content, he had no call to object. 

Eumenes left Corinth for Mantinea the next 
day. 


157 


CHAPTER XVII 


Jew and Greek 

It was the traditional glory of the Isthmian 
Games, as, indeed, it was of all the great athletic 
celebrations of ancient Greece, that the prize 
for which the competitors contended had no 
intrinsic value. At Olympia, the most famous 
of these festivals, the coveted reward of victory 
was a wreath of wild olive, cut from the sacred 
tree which Hercules was said to have brought 
from the happy land which lay behind the north 
wind. At Nemea the wreath was of parsley, 
at the Isthmus it was of pine at the time of which 
I am writing, up to the date of the second found- 
ing of the city by Julius Caesar it had been the 
same as at Nemea. But it must not be supposed 
that the victors in the various contests did not 
receive very substantial rewards. As early as 
the sixth century we hear that Solon, the law- 
giver of Athens, provided a bounty of a hundred 
158 


Jew and Greek 

drachmae 1 to any one who should win a prize 
at the Isthmian Games. In after-times these 
public rewards became more valuable. Prize 
winners became entitled to maintenance at the 
public expense in the Common Hall (Hotel de 
Ville, or Mansion House) of the State, and 
enjoyed various other precedences and privileges. 
The result was that a victory became a very 
valuable thing, and in consequence the object 
of a good many intrigues and jealousies. And 
besides this there was a vast amount of betting 
about the competitions. Betting is a universal 
passion of man, civilized and uncivilized. It 
may be said to rule from the pole to the equator, 
but nowhere is it now, or was it then, more 
dominant than in the nations of Southern Europe. 
As may be supposed, it was briskly carried on in 
Corinth at the time of which we are writing, nor 
was there any competition on which more wagers 
were laid than the long foot race. It was a 
thing about which every one, it might be said, 
had an opportunity of judging for himself. The 

1 A drachma would be equal to about 9 \d. of English silver 
coinage — the silver of which it was coined was without alloy — so 
that the bounty would be equivalent to about £4, in purchasing 
power to about £50 at the very least. The wealthiest class in 
Solon’s division of the Athenian citizens, a division according to 
wealth, were those who had an income of 500 drachmae. 
This of course would be the minimum. 

159 


Jew and Greek 

boxers and wrestlers could not be so readily- 
compared. Of course they were never matched 
against each other and their performances could 
not be estimated. As for the chariot races the 
teams which competed did not make their 
appearance till a little time before the actual 
contest, and they could only be judged by reputa- 
tion. The runners, on the other hand, were 
daily seen at their exercise, and it was possible 
to get a good idea of their style and speed. 

Eubulus was a leading favourite. He was, 
to begin with, a very handsome young man, 
and that always goes a long way, for 

Worth appears with brighter shine 
When lodged within a lovely shrine.i 

Then he was a Corinthian, or the next thing to 
one, as he had lived in the city ever since his 
earliest childhood, and he had the most charming 
manners. He had won, too, in the boys’ race at 
Olympia. This, it was true, was not always an 
augury of success later on. Sometimes the 
successful boy competitor was overworked by 
these premature exertions. Eubulus, however, 
seemed to have escaped this danger. His tall, 
upright figure, fresh complexion obviously bloom- 
i “Gratior et pulchro veniens in corpore virtus.” (Aen. 
v. 344), used appropriately enough by Virgil of the beautiful 
Euryalus, who was a competitor in the foot race. 

160 


Jew and Greek 

ing with health, and light springy step, had all 
the appearance of perfect condition. Every one 
who was prepared to risk a drachma was anxious 
to back Eubulus. This very wide popularity, 
had, of course, its dangers. Of one of these 
dangers there will be a good deal to say hereafter. 
There are always a number of unprincipled 
people who stand to make money by the failure 
of the favourite, and the case of Eubulus was no 
exception to the rule. A more subtle peril came 
from friends rather than from mere enemies. 
The young man could have had as many so-called 
friends as he liked. Many men of much higher 
social standing than himself would willingly have 
made him their companion. Some were attracted 
by his genuine charm. With many, the strongest 
motive was a somewhat foolish pride in being 
able to boast acquaintance with a public character. 
And here the friendship of Aquila and Priscilla 
was of the greatest advantage to the young man. 
He was profoundly grateful for the kindness 
which had enabled him to finish his course of 
training. Possibly the ambition to win might 
have kept him in the straight way, but the motive 
was reinforced by* gratitude. It would be shame- 
ful, he could not but think, to do anything or 
omit to do anything which might hinder him 
from showing himself worthy of such kindness. 

161 L 


Jew and Greek 

But what was of especial benefit to him was 
the intimacy which grew up between him and 
his two patrons, if they may be so called. It 
showed to him a home where every influence was 
for good. His trainer was a decent fellow, who 
was strict, from the business point of view, in 
keeping an orderly house, but the talk and the 
general tone were not particularly improving. 
Eubulus had to take all his meals there, and of 
course to sleep there, and on these points the 
rule was of the strictest, but the time that re- 
mained over to him after his daily exercises were 
done was his own, and he spent it with Aquila 
and Priscilla, to his immeasurable advantage. 
He was of a naturally religious temper, and for 
such a disposition there was little satisfaction 
to be found in those days. In all that concerned 
the spiritual world, things were at their darkest, 
as, indeed, they are wont to be before the coming 
of the light. It was impossible for any one of 
intelligence to respect the popular beliefs. They 
revolted even the moral sense ; and a man was 
on the whole better without them. Eubulus 
had found some little good in a mystical brother- 
hood, which he had joined at Sicyon, where his 
father had kept up some old friendships. The 
institution was not of much account, but still it 
was better than nothing. In theory it kept alive 
162 


Jew and Greek 

the knowledge of two truths of the greatest 
importance, that there was one All-wise and 
Almighty God, and that man was immortal; 
in practice it was sadly degenerate. The truths 
were embodied in sentences formally pronounced, 
to which few paid any attention. Practically 
the meetings meant little beyond a spectacle and 
a feast. All that his membership did for Eubulus 
was that it gave him hints in which the com- 
panionship of his friends developed new mean- 
ings. 

It was, of course, only by degrees that topics 
so serious were reached. The young Corinthian 
was keenly interested in what was, for the present, 
the work of his life, but he had a suspicion that 
Aquila personally did not regard it with very 
much favour. He was not a little pleased there- 
fore when the Jew told him what he had heard 
from his Ephesian friend. 

“ I don’t suppose,” Aquila went on, after 
explaining what had made him change his way 
of thinking, “ that I should ever be a spectator 
of the Games either here at the Isthmus or 
anywhere else. I have not been brought up to 
interest myself in such matters. But I have learnt 
to think of them with more tolerance ; I cannot 
condemn what one of the greatest of the servants 
of God is content to use as an illustration.” 

163 


Jew and Greek 

“ Pardon me, sir,” said Eubulus, “ but are 
there any games, any amusements practised 
among your people ? ” 

Aquila was a little perplexed by the ques- 
tion. 

“ Well,” he said after a pause, “ I hardly know 
how to answer you. The children, of course, have 
their toys and sports ; and where there are boys they 
are sure to run races and wrestle. But for regular 
sports for grown-up men I can hardly speak. 
You see I have never lived in my own country, 
and there are difficulties, as you will easily under- 
stand, when our home is among strangers. We 
have always had, of course, practice at archery 
and throwing the javelin at a mark and using 
the sling. We pride ourselves on being as 
skilful with the sling as the most famous experts 
in that weapon, the Cretans for example. But 
these are more martial exercises than sports, and 
now that we are a province of the empire, and war 
is practically out of the question, such exercises 
have fallen into disuse. No, I should say that as 
a nation we never had any games to speak of.” 

“ And don’t you think, sir,” Eubulus went on, 
“ that this is a loss.” 

“ Very likely,” replied Aquila, “ but then you 
will remember that in the days when we were free, 
every man was virtually a soldier, and between 
164 


Jew and Greek 

keeping himself ready for service and working 
for his daily bread, he had no time to spare.” 

Priscilla, who had been listening to the con- 
versation, now took a part in it. 

“ I cannot help thinking that our young 
friend is right. And I am quite sure that 
in one thing he and his people are greatly 
superior to my own. Their Games are infinitely 
superior to our dreadful Shows, poor creatures 
torn to pieces by wild beasts, a dreadful fate 
even for the worst criminals, and, what is still 
worse, men set to fight with men, aye, and 
slaughtered in cold blood afterwards if they do 
not acquit themselves so as to satisfy the spectators. 
I never shall forget what I saw when I went one 
day with my Aunt Cornelia to a great show. It 
was the first that the Emperor exhibited after he 
came to the throne, and it was expected to be 
particularly splendid. And so it was, as I was 
told by those who were experienced in such 
matters, but I thought it a very dreadful 
affair, and was very sorry that I was ever per- 
suaded to go. The first part of it wasn’t so bad ; 
there were performing elephants and dancing 
bears and dogs that performed such tricks as you 
never saw. Then there were all sorts of strange 
and beautiful animals from all parts of the world, 
ostriches, and flamingoes — bright scarlet creatures 

165 


Jew and Greek 

— and deer of all kinds, big and little. I could not 
help feeling a little sorry for the beautiful crea- 
tures, taken away from their own places, and 
pretty certain to die. But this was nothing to 
what came afterwards. I can’t attempt to 
describe the horrors of that day ; as a matter of 
fact I saw very little of them, for I hid my face 
in my hands, but what I did see was too dreadful — ■ 
I can see it as I sit here at this moment. My 
aunt said, c Come, Prisca’ — they did not call me 
Priscilla then ,for I had not grown as tall as I am 
now — * here is something well worth seeing, 
and nothing, too, that need shock you.’ Well, I 
looked up, and it was an exciting thing, I must 
own, to watch. Do you know that I am ashamed 
to remember how exciting it was ? perhaps it was 
the wolf’s blood in my veins. There were two 
men fighting. One had a net in one hand and a 
sort of three-pronged fork, rather bigger than a 
common shovel, in the other. He had a dagger, 
too, though I did not see it at the time. The 
other had a long sword, a very much more 
powerful weapon than the fork or the dagger ; 
but then the net was supposed to make the two 
equal. Well, it was very interesting to see them 
making feints, advancing or retreating, first one 
seeming to get the advantage and then the other. 
At last the man with the net made a throw — 
166 


Jew and Greek 

you see, if he entangled the other in it he had got 
the better of the fight — but he missed ; the 
other man was watching him, watching not the 
hand but the eye, and guessed when he would 
throw, and so contrived to keep clear. Then 
the net-man took to his heels with his antagonist 
after him. He could not run quite so fast ; his 
net and fork hindered him, and the other was 
soon close behind. And then a strange thing 
happened ; the swordsman looked away for a 
moment ; they told me afterwards that it was 
to the place where the girl to whom he was 
betrothed was sitting. In a moment the net- 
man saw it, made another cast, and entangled 
the swordsman in it. The next instant he 
struck him with the fork. That was bad enough 
to see, but it was nothing to what came after. 
The swordsman was supposed to have disgraced 
himself, though I don’t wonder at his doing it ; 
anyhow, the spectators were very much enraged 
— some of them I was told hadlost money in betting 
on the affair — and they positively ordered the 
man to be killed. Yes, and my aunt was one of 
them. She was holding her thumb out straight, 
in a striking attitude, you might say, and she 
looked as fierce as if she could have killed the 
man with her own hands. ‘ Clumsy fool,’ I 
heard her say, ‘ when he had the game in his 
167 


Jew and Greek 

own hands, to throw it away in this silly fashion. 
Let him suffer for it.’ There was a horrid 
fascination in the thing, and I positively could 
not look away. And besides, I hoped that the 
poor fellow might escape after all. For all the 
people were not of the same mind. Some held 
their thumbs down — that means mercy. But it 
went against him. They told me afterward, 
that when there is a difference it almost always 
does ; except the party that is for killing is very 
small indeed. The Emperor, if he is present, 
or if not, the elder consul, decides, and he knows 
that the death sentence is more liked. It is the 
only thing that remains to the Romans of their 
old power. They used to rule the world, and 
now they have to be content with saying whether 
some poor wretch of a gladiator shall live or die. 
I shall never forget the gasp of satisfaction which 
my aunt gave when the net-man struck his 
dagger into his antagonist’s side ; there was a 
dead silence, and you could hear the blow. So, 
at least, I fancied. I never went again, as you 
may suppose ; and I could hardly bear to speak 
to my aunt, though I don’t suppose, poor woman ! 
that she was worse than others.” 

Eubulus, who was perfectly candid and honest 
when he was questioned about his life at the 
trainer’s, could not give a very good account of 
1 68 


Jew and Greek 

the life that he had to lead there, or of his com- 
panions. 

“ The thing is not what it was, if I am to 
believe what was written about it in the former 
days. All the boys and lads are professionals, or 
would like to be professionals. If they win a 
victory, then they have their chance. One victory 
is not enough ; they must have a second, and 
then the people who pay their expenses are willing 
to go on. If they fail, they have to take up 
with some other occupation. But there is not a 
single competitor who comes for the love of the 
thing. In the old days, as I have read, the sons 
of the best families in Greece used to compete. 
Commonly they were content if they won a 
prize ; they went back to their houses and lived 
the life that they would have lived in any case, 
as statesmen, soldiers, teachers or anything else. 
Now and then if a man had special aptitude he 
would compete again and again. But he wasn’t 
a professional. These things adorned his life, 
but they did not make it. So I have read. 
There was a Dorieus of Rhodes, whom I have 
read about in Xenophon . He won the Pan- 
cratium 1 three times at Olympia, and eight 

1 The Pancratium was a combination of boxing and wrestling. 
It was a very severe exercise indeed, and one which required 
a man to be in the very fullest vigour of life. The remarkable 
169 


Jew and Greek 

times here at Corinth. That was a wonderful 
thing to do when one thinks what the Pancratium 
is. There is a man of eight and twenty training 
for it with us, and the master thinks that he is a 
little too old. But Dorieus, I have read, was 
always the first man in his state notwithstanding. 
I don’t wonder that the Athenians when they 
took him prisoner let him go free. He must have 
been a wonder of a man. There is nobody of 
that sort among us. Of course I have no right 
to talk about birth and station. Still I wouldn’t 
be a professional on any account, and I must say 
that I like the whole business far less than I did 
six weeks ago.” 

thing about Dorieus was that if he was three and twenty when 
he won his first victory at Corinth he must have been close 
upon forty when he won his last. And this was an age at which 
it was the rarest thing for a man to keep up the requisite strength 
and condition. In this country a prize-fighter was thought 
to be past his prime at thirty. 


CHAPTER XVIII 
Cleonice. 

It is not to be supposed that Eubulus should 
have grown to manhood without having had his 
heart touched by the charms of some Corinthian 
maiden. As a matter of fact, he was deeply in love, 
and unfortunately the girl whom he loved was con- 
siderably above himself in social standing, for she 
was the only child of the Archon himself. There was 
also another difficulty in the way, were the social 
difficulty to be overcome. Her father’s sister 
was priestess of one of the most famous shrines 
of the city, the temple of Athene of the Bridle, 
a local title which was given to the goddess be- 
cause she was believed, according to the local 
legend, to have bridled the winged horse, Pega- 
sus, and handed him over ready for use, to her 
favourite hero Bellerophon. Cleonice then, for this 
was the maiden’s name, was the priestess’s nearest 
kinswoman, and her aunt was extremely anxious 
that she should succeed her in the priesthood, 
an office which was as lucrative as it was honour- 
171 


Cleonice 


able. Failing her it would pass to a distant branch 
of the Bacchiad house. Cleonice’s family was 
divided in the matter. Her father favoured 
the scheme. The dignity of the position held 
for generations by the family to which he be- 
longed, appealed to him strongly. Her mother 
was adverse. The priestess of Athene, the maiden 
goddess, was necessarily restrained from marriage, 
and the mother, whose own union had been 
singularly happy, was unwilling to shut out her 
child from wedded happiness. Cleonice herself 
did not as yet feel strongly either way. On the 
whole perhaps she was favourable to her aunt’s 
scheme ; but it was probable that a little access 
of feeling might make her change her mind. 
At present she was perfectly heart-whole. She 
had seen Eubulus at a festival when the choirs 
of three temples had met, had even noticed his 
handsome person, and admired the penetrating 
sweetness of his tenor voice, but he had by this 
time entirely passed from her memory. He, 
on the contrary, had kept the image of the beauti- 
ful girl whom he had at once singled out from 
her companions in the shrine of his heart, and 
had continued to worship it secretly. The 
prospect was about as hopeless as it well could 
be, but he believed with the happy optimism 
of youth, that all things were possible in love, 
172 


Cleonice 


and he was content, at least for the present, to 
possess his soul in patience. 

It may easily be imagined that the young 
man’s secret did not long remain his own. Pris- 
cilla, who may be said to have made a love match 
for herself, and had found it a more than usually 
happy experience, was keenly interested in affairs 
of the kind, all the more keenly, perhaps, because 
she had no children to occupy her thoughts. It had 
struck her for some time that the young man was 
a little more absent-minded than one quite heart- 
whole might be expected to be. She found him 
more than once intently studying a little volume 
which, although she had no opportunity of 
inspecting it, she suspected might be, and which 
indeed was, a collection of love poems. He was a 
well educated lad, but not specially fond of read- 
ing. She had more positive proof when she 
picked up a fragment of parchment which he had 
covered with some attempts, not very felicitous, 
it must be owned,, at love verses of his own. 
These strong suspicions were turned into cer- 
tainty by a chance meeting between the two. 
It came about one evening on what was the 
fashionable promenade of Corinth, the road that 
led from the city to the Isthmian Race-course. 
Priscilla and Eubulus were on foot ; Cleonice 
and her mother were in their chariot, and they 
173 


Cleonic6 


stopped to speak to the Roman lady. She was 
well known to be wealthy and high-born, and 
though she kept as much aloof from Corinthian 
society as courtesy permitted, she had some 
acquaintances in it. Eubulus naturally passed 
on when the carriage stopped, but not till he 
had betrayed himself to the keen eyes of his com- 
panion. There was no mistaking the significance 
of the fiery flush that mounted to his face, nor 
the eager look which he cast on the girl as she 
sat by her mother’s side. 

When Priscilla came to review the situation 
she felt not a little perplexed. She knew the 
secret of Eubulus’ birth, or rather, she was aware 
of the fact that there was such a secret, for 
Aquila had naturally made her acquainted with 
it. Her interest in the young man was so direct 
and so strong that it was but right that she should 
know it. “ Was the time come,” she thought 
to herself, “when we ought to make ourselves 
acquainted with the secret ? Perhaps the happi- 
ness of his whole life may depend upon it.” 
This, however, did not commend itself to her 
more delicate judgment. It could scarcely be 
called a necessary cause. But it made both 
husband and wife see that the trust which they 
had undertaken might suggest very embarrass- 
ing questions. 


174 


Cleonice 


Chance, however, gave Eubulus an opportunity 
of commending himself to the young lady far 
more favourable than he could have contrived 
for himself or his friends could have contrived 
for him. It was customary to hold an aquatic 
festival, something like what we call a regatta. 
There were rowing and sailing competitions, and 
various sports that were practised on water. 
The affair was a very popular one, as might be 
expected in “ Corinth of the Two Seas,” a city 
which owed its wealth, and even, it may be said, 
its existence to the business of which these amuse- 
ments were the less serious side. The festival 
was held in the Gulf, the waters of which were, 
as has been said, almost invariably calm. A vast 
crowd of vessels of all kinds covered the surface 
of the sea. The members of the Corinthian 
municipality attended in state on their barge, 
which was supposed to represent in shape and 
equipment the earliest of Greek ships, the world 
famous Argo . 1 The wealthy citizens had yachts 
and pinnaces of their own ; for the sightseers 
generally, and these may be said to have included 


1 The legend was that Jason, having been treated with ingra- 
titude and treachery by Pelias, King of Iolcos, for whom he had 
fetched the Golden Fleece from Colchis, migrated to Corinth 
and there dedicated the ship Argo to Poseidon. 

175 


Cleonice 


nearly the whole population, everything that 
could float was requisitioned. 

The festival was in full swing when one of 
the accidents which no foresight can wholly 
guard against occurred. The Isthmus on which 
Corinth stood was a generally level surface, 
interrupted, however, towards the southern side 
by a very remarkable rock, called the Aero 
Corinthus and serving as the citadel of the town. 
This rose almost abruptly from the plain to a 
height of nearly two thousand feet, and it occa- 
sionally caused a disturbance in the weather. 
A gust of east wind would sometimes be caught, 
so to speak, by the huge bulk of the rock, and 
come down with increased violence on the sur- 
face of the Gulf below . 1 

This was what happened now. Hitherto there 
had been almost a dead calm, and the sailing 
vessels had set all their canvas to catch such fitful 
airs as from time to time ruffled the surface. 
Then there suddenly descended from the height 
an unexpected blast. It made for itself a way 
of some few yards wide, curiously distinguished 
from the surrounding calm by a dark and ruffled 
surface. Right in this line which it followed 


1 Like the great gust of wind also from the east, that came 
down on the Sea of Galilee from the heights of Gilead. 

176 



The Rescue of Cleonice 



Cleonice 


was a yacht with a great expanse of canvas. 
This it caught sidewise ; the rudder was wrenched 
by the sudden shock from the hand of the steers- 
man— -he was intent upon the fortunes of a race, 
and the vessel became unmanageable. The next 
moment she came into violent collision with 
a rowing boat. Happily the blow was delivered 
close to the bow, which was not occupied by any 
passengers ; even the man at the bow-oar escaped 
unhurt, but both rowers and passengers were 
precipitated into the water. The passengers were 
Cleonice and her mother, for whom the municipal 
yacht was not available. The yacht, on the other 
hand, had been chartered by the trainer, who 
mindful of the wise maxim which forbids the 
bowman to keep his bow always bent, was giving 
his pupils a holiday. They were allowed a day 
off from regular training and exercises. To 
have permitted them to follow their own devices 
and spend the day as they chose would have been 
highly imprudent. A single excess might easily 
undo the good of weeks of discipline and tem- 
perancej accordingly the trainer, who was well 
paid for his work and could afford to do things 
on a liberal scale, did not cease to shepherd his 
flock, and keep them under his own eye. Eubu- 
lus had thrown off his upper garment the mo- 
ment he saw that a collision was imminent, and 
177 M 


Cleonic6 


stood clad in a tight fitting tunic ready for a 
plunge. At an earlier period of the day he had 
caught sight of the row boat, and with a lover’s 
keenness of vision, had distinguished its occu- 
pants. He now recognized them again, and in a 
moment he was in the water, making with the 
rapid and vigorous stroke of a practised swimmer 
for the girl, who was fortunately kept from imme- 
diately sinking by her garments. The actual 
rescue was easy enough. She had the presence of 
mind not to embarrass her deliverer by a struggle ; 
and he was so much at home in the water, that 
he had no difficulty in supporting her. Help 
too was speedily rendered by some of the boats in 
the neighbourhood. The incident happily ended 
without any disaster. The trainer’s yacht escaped 
without capsizing, thanks to the fact that the 
breaking of the mast relieved it from the pressure 
of the sails. Cleonice’s mother had a narrow 
escape, but rather from the shock than from the 
actual danger of drowning. She was conscious 
enough, however, to ask the name of the rescuer, 
and she suffered nothing worse in the end than 
a few days’ confinement to her bed. Certainly 
Eubulus had to thank his fortunes for a rare 
opportunity. 


178 


CHAPTER XIX 


Plots. 

The reader will have no difficulty in understand- 
ing that the games of the Isthmus, in common 
with all similar celebrations in Greece, had 
entered on a period of decadence. So, indeed, 
had Greece itself. This, condition of decay was 
no new thing. It had begun in the days when 
the country was yet free, it became more rapid 
and more complete when freedom was lost. It 
may be doubted whether things were worse in 
the Isthmus Than elsewhere. But some of the 
accompanying evils were brought into greater 
relief by the near neighbourhood of a wealthy 
city. One great trouble was the change in the 
character of the competitions, or, perhaps, one 
should rather say, in the motives of the compe- 
titors. Time had been when honour was the 
predominant attraction ; it had now been re- 
placed by gain. Along with the decline there 
had been a change in the class of the competitors. 
It did not follow that a young man of aristocratic 

179 


Plots 


family was necessarily better than one who had 
come of a humbler stock ; but it was a fact that 
the lower class was more easily affected by mer- 
cenary motives. It is inconceivable that a youth 
belonging to the Alcmaeonidae of Athens, or 
to one of the royal houses of Sparta, or to the 
Bacchiads of Corinth should barter his chances 
of success for any earthly consideration. But 
men who sought victory because victory would 
put money into their pockets might be tempted 
to anticipate the object which they sought, if it 
was put within their reach without risk or delay. 

Another result of the change was a vast increase 
in the betting, of which the various races were 
the subject. Things were very much as they 
are now. There was a multitude of people who 
speculated on these events in very various ways. 
Some did so simply to get a little excitement. 
They were ready to make wagers on races and 
on almost anything else. They had no particular 
knowledge of them or even interest in them. It 
was an opportunity of gambling ; the gambling 
was what they really cared about. Others had 
some kind of interest in them. They had been 
competitors themselves, had won prizes, or tried 
to win prizes, in former years, or they knew one 
or other of the candidates, or they affected a 
knowledge which they did not really possess. 

180 


Plots 


There was no great harm about these two classes. 
They risked money, it was true, which they could 
ill spare, and sometimes made wives and children 
go short of food and clothing ; their worst mis- 
deed was to risk what did not in any way belong 
to them, the property, for instance, of employers. 
But the most mischievous class was that of the 
professional betters. Even of these some were 
honest up to their lights. They took advantage, 
it is true, of the ignorant and unwary, tempting 
them, for instance, to take as risks what were 
really certainties against them. Still they did 
not descend to downright fraud. If they lost 
a wager they did not attempt to escape payment ; 
and they did not seek to tamper with competitors 
or judges. But these men, honest or compara- 
tively honest, were the exception. The great 
majority of the professional class had no scruples 
as to the methods by which they made their gain. 
They bribed or “ hocussed ” competitors ; they 
corrupted judges, they tampered with imple- 
ments ; they organized demonstrations which 
might terrify or perplex a candidate whose vic- 
tory did not suit their operations. There was 
nothing, in short, in the way of fraud, and even 
of force, to which, if occasion served, they were 
not ready to have recourse. 

To this highly objectionable class belonged 
181 


Plots 


the three men whom I am now about to bring 
under the notice of my readers. These fellows, 
Cleon, Democles, and Ariston by name, had been 
accomplices in sundry nefarious practices for 
some years. They had made, first and last, no 
small amount of money by their villainies, but 
their gains, as happens almost invariably with 
men of this stamp, seemed to have done them 
but very little good. They had been lightly come 
by and had gone lightly, and now they were about 
as “ hard-up ” as men could well be. It is 
needless to describe how they stood in regard 
to other contests in the forthcoming games ; it 
will suffice to say that their prospects were 
neither particularly good nor particularly bad* 
They did not stand to lose or to win any great 
sum. With the long race the case was different. 
They had begun by giving long odds against 
Eubulus. This was reasonable enough. The 
young man when he had begun his training had 
not shown any special promise, and then there 
were the adverse family circumstances — they 
made it their business to make themselves ac- 
quainted with everything that was likely to tell 
upon the result — to be taken into account. He 
might have to be withdrawn from the compe- 
tition, as we know he would have been withdrawn 
but for the quite unforeseen intervention of a 
182 


Plots 


friend. These and other reasons made them 
feel tolerably safe in laying heavy wagers against 
him. Then the situation changed. The young 
man developed wonderfully under the trainer’s 
hands ; from being almost or wholly unknown, 
“ a dark horse,” to use the phraseology of the 
race-course, he became the first favourite. This, 
of course, was nothing less than a disaster to the 
confederates. There needs no great familiarity 
with the methods of betting to see that men who 
had been laying, say twenty to one, against him, 
would stand to lose considerably when the odds 
come to be two to one upon him. To secure 
themselves in the case of his winning they would 
have to risk a sum which they would be absolutely 
unable to pay ; while in the event of his being 
beaten they would be losing a considerable sum. 
To making a default in payment they had no 
objection in conscience, but they had the objec- 
tion that it would put an end to their career, as 
far at least as Corinth was concerned . 1 


1 For the benefit of readers to whom these things seem 
obscure, I may explain the situation. The confederates had 
wagered twenty talents (say £4,218) to one talent (say £211) 
against Eubulus winning the long race : i.e. if he won they 
would have to pay £4,218 ; if he lost they would receive £211. 
To secure themselves against loss in the event of his winning, 
which they now perceived to be probable, they would have to 
wager £8,436 against £4,218. The result would be that if he 

183 


Plots 


The three rogues were busy discussing the 
situation in a tavern near the harbour of Lech- 
aeum, a favourite haunt of these men because 
it was much frequented by sailors, anxious, as 
has been the way of the sailor from the days of 
the first ship, to got rid of their money. 

“ Well, Cleon,” said Ariston, “ have you had 
any success with the young man ? ” 

“ None at all,” answered Cleon. “ But I 
never thought that I should. He is not of that 
sort.” 

“ Would it be of any good, think you, to raise 
the price ? I have heard wise men say that 
there is nothing that you cannot persuade a man 
to do if you only offer him enough.” 

“ Your wise man, I take it, did not know 
what he was talking about. Anyhow money 
won’t buy him. He may have his price, but it 
is something, you may depend upon it, that we 
can’t pay him. Now if we could promise him 
the fair Cleonice,” the rascal had made it his 
business to find out all that he could about the 
young man, “ it might be to the point ; but I 
don’t see how that is to be done. No : he is 


won, they would receive on the second wager the same sum 
that they would have to pay on the first. If he was beaten, which 
of course was quite possible, for accidents might happen, they 
would have to pay £8,436 and receive £211. 

184 


Plots 


not to be bought. We must think of some other 
way of setting to work.” 

“ How about the trainer ? ” asked Ariston after 
a pause. “ He is not so incorruptible, I suppose. 
At least I never knew one of the craft that 
was.” 

“ Well,” replied Cleon, “ I don’t see much 
of a chance in that direction either. You see, 
Eurylochus” — this was the trainer’s name — “has 
a very good business, and he has got it together 
by keeping a good name. Whether he is honest 
by choice is more than I can say ; but he is 
certainly honest by necessity. It would not 
be worth his while to do anything shady, or that 
was in the least suspicious. No : he would cer- 
tainly want as much as he would ask if he were 
to sell his business, not to say anything at all 
of the bother and risk. If he were willing, and 
I am not at all sure of that, he would want more 
than we could manage. No : as far as I can see 
there is nothing to be got out of Eurylochus.” 

The third conspirator, Democles, who had 
hitherto been listening in silence, now broke 
in : — 

“ I have another idea which might be worth 
trying. Could we find some one else in the 
training school to help us ? There are some 
thirty fellows there, and some of them must 
185 


Plots 


have begun by this time to find out that they 
haven’t much of a chance of getting a prize — 
that they have, in fact, been spending time and 
money to no purpose. Might not one of them 
be glad to get something back, and be not very 
particular about the way of doing it ? The 
particular way of doing it will be matter for 
consideration later on. Eubulus might be ho- 
cussed — I know a fellow who is very clever in this 
kind of thing — or some accident might be con- 
trived ; or there is the old way of the dagger, 
not a bad way either, for dead men can tell no 
tales and ask no questions. How does this strike 
you, Cleon ? ” 

“ I think there is something in it,” answered 
the man appealed to. “ It would be very strange 
if all Eurylochus’ thirty pupils were men of such 
incorruptible virtue as our friend Eubulus seems to 
be.” 

The thirty were discussed one by one. The 
three rogues showed between them an amazing 
knowledge of the circumstances of every one of 
them. The choice was soon narrowed down 
to a few. No decent man with anything like 
a future before him could be induced to meddle 
with such a business, and it would be only dan- 
gerous to approach them. It was not long 
before a final selection was made, A certain 
1 86 


Plots 


Dromeus 1 * was fixed upon as the most likely to 
serve the conspirators’ purpose. He was a degen- 
erate descendant of a famous race of athletes. 
The founder of that race had distinguished 
himself several centuries before by winning a 
quite unprecedented number of victories in 
the long race. He had been proclaimed victor 
twice at Olympia, as often at the Pythian Games, 
thrice at the Isthmian and five times at the 
Nemean. It is quite possible that the revolution 
that he made in the athletic diet — he changed 
its staple from cheese to flesh — may have had 
something to do with these unusual successes, but 
he must have had a great personal aptitude. Ath- 
letic distinction of this kind became hereditary 
in his family ; the name, the significance of 
which was regarded as a matter of no small 
importance, was handed down from father to 
son. If there happened to be a break in the 
succession, it was taken up by the nearest 
relative. 

But in course of time the family had lost, 
as families are apt to lose, some of its char- 
acteristics. Their physique was not impaired, 
but the moral qualities, which were of no less 
importance, had declined. Its present repre- 


1 Dromeus means “ the runner . 3 

187 


Plots 


sentative was distinctly degenerate. He had 
indeed made a brilliant beginning of his career, 
for he had won the boys’ foot race at 
Olympia ; unfortunately the success had not 
done him any good. It had made him conceited, 
and it had rendered him the object of many 
flattering attentions, which he was not wise 
enough to estimate at their proper value. It 
was followed by two defeats at lesser festivals, 
and there was now every probability that a third 
failure would follow. Dromeus had begun to 
lose heart. He had failed to hold his own in 
private trials with Eubulus, and as time went 
on his inferiority became more and more marked. 
The usual result followed. As the man’s hopes 
diminished his resolution and perseverance slack- 
ened. Opportunities of indulgence — and the 
most jealously guarded system of training could 
not wholly exclude them — were not avoided, 
and were soon even sought. So it came to pass 
that Dromeus’ prospects were anything but 
bright. His means were narrow, he had put 
himself under very embarrassing obligations, 
and he had lost his self-respect. He was, in 
short, exactly in the condition in which he would 
be most likely to yield to a temptation addressed 
either to his pride or to his needs. 

Cleon proceeded to make his advances with 
1 88 


Plots 


all the skill which a long apprenticeship in vil- 
lainy had taught him. A direct suggestion of 
violence or fraud would, he felt, be impolitic. 
Dromeus was not ripe for it — the evil had only 
begun to work in him. Jealousy of the young 
rival, who now stood so high in popular favour, 
seemed the motive to which an appeal might be 
most easily made. Cleon had already a slight 
acquaintance with the young man, and he found 
opportunities of improving it. A little con- 
versation gave him no little insight into Dromeus’ 
character and capacities. It was evident that 
he was at once extraordinarily vain and extra- 
ordinarily ignorant. The subject of the coming 
race, and with it, of course, the popularity of 
Eubulus, soon turned up. Dromeus was almost 
frantically jealous of his competitor. Both his 
family and his personal pride were touched. 

“ Who,” he cried, “ is this young upstart ? 
Where are his traditions ? His father is an artisan, 
or a trader, or something equally insignificant. 
And his grandfather ? No one probably knows. 
And these fools in Corinth here crowd to see 
him, aye, and positively cheer him. I heard 
them doing it this very morning. Do they 
know that I am the sixteenth in descent from 
the great runner Dromeus of Stymphalus ? ” 
If any one in Corinth did not know it, it was not 
189 


Plots 


by any fault of Dromeus, who was seldom in any 
company for five minutes without mentioning 
the name of his great ancestor. “ It is monstrous 
that this low-born fellow should thrust himself 
forward in this fashion, and intrude himself 
into the amusements of gentlemen.” 

“ Is he really worth anything ? ” asked Cleon. 

Cleon could have answered his own question 
as well as any one in Corinth, but he wanted 
to sound his companion’s thoughts. 

“ Well,” answered Dromeus, “ he is not bad 
for a fellow of that class. He has a fair speed 
and seems to last sufficiently well. But it is the 
race itself that tests a man. Trials are very 
different things ; but to run with the eyes of 
fifty thousand people fixed upon you, that proves 
what is in a man. It is then that the hereditary 
temper shows itself. Do you know, that when 
I ran at Olympia I did not feel the faintest 
suspicion of a tremor ? ” 

“ Is it all quite straightforward, think you ? ” 
said Cleon. 

“ Straightforward,” replied Dromeus. “ I don’t 
quite catch your meaning. I never saw the 
fellow cheat, I don’t think that he would, for 
he is not a bad sort ; even if he could, I must own 
that I do not see where his opportunity would 
come in.” 

190 


Plots 

“ Have you ever heard of charms ? ” asked 
Cleon. 

“ Charms ? What do you mean ? ” cried 
Dromeus. 

“ Well, I mean the magic lotions and potions 
by which witches and wizards do such wonderful 
things.” 

“ I have heard of such things,” said the runner ; 
“ but tell me more.” 

“ Well,” said Cleon, “ there are stories with- 
out end of what Medea did in this very city. 
She put some dreadful drug on the robe which 
she gave to the King’s daughter. Jason, her 
husband, had divorced her and was going to 
marry the princess — *and it burnt her as if it had 
been fire, aye, and her old father the King too. 
This, of course, was a mischievous drug ; but 
there are things which give strength as well as 
take it away. Go to any drug-seller in the city, 
and he will tell you of such things, aye, and sell 
them to you, if you are ready to pay the price. 
I don’t mean to say but what most of these things 
are mere rubbish ; still there is no smoke without 
fire. The pretence would not be sought after 
if there was not some reality behind them.” 

Dromeus was intensely interested in all this. 
It appealed at once to his jealousy and to his 
pride. It had been hateful to him to see a low- 
191 


Plots 


born rival gaining the advantage over him, and 
it consoled him vastly to believe that the advan- 
tage had been secured by foul means. 

Cleon thought it best to interrupt the con- 
versation at this point, and to leave his sugges- 
tion to work. 


192 


CHAPTER XX 


A Drug. 

Cleon’s suggestion, so artfully adapted to the 
motives which were dominant in the disap- 
pointed athlete’s breast, worked as leaven works 
in a measure of meal. The two met, according 
to arrangement, on the fourth day, the appointed 
place being the fountain of Peirene. Before, 
however, this meeting took place, there had been 
a consultation between the conspirators, and 
Cleon’s plan was discussed. 

“ Is this all an imagination of yours, Cleon ? ” 
asked Ariston. “ Is there any drug that makes 
a man especially fleet of foot and long of wind ? 
and is there any other drug with which you can 
counteract the effects of the first ? ” 

Cleon smiled. “ You are really very encour- 
aging, Ariston. If you believe half this rigma- 
role, there must be many more people in Corinth 
than I thought who believe it all. As for the 
first drug we need not inquire. There may be 
such, or there may not. As for the second, I 
have no doubt whatever. I know of several 


193 


N 


A Drug 

drugs, though these things are not in my espe- 
cial line, which if a man take he will never run 
quickly again, or indeed slowly, for the matter 
of that.” 

The two other confederates started. Cleon 
had been thinking of the plan for some time, 
and his mind had become habituated to it. To 
his companions it came as a surprise and a blow. 

“ What,” said Ariston, in a faltering voice, 
“ you mean to poison the man.” 

“ Good words ! good words ! my friend,” 
cried Cleon in mocking tones. “ Who talked of 
poison ? We administer a drug, compounded 
according to a well-known prescription. No, I 
am wrong. It is not we who administer it ; it 
is Dromeus. Suppose that something happens. 
Untoward accidents do happen when we have 
to do with these powerful agents. It is quite 
possible that nothing may be found out. Of ten 
deaths by poisoning — no, let me say after the 
administration of drugs — >seven or eight cause no 
suspicion. And when there are suspicions it is 
very difficult to prove anything. But let us 
imagine the worst ; I do hope that no harm will 
come to our very amiable and promising friend 
Eubulus, but if it should, if he should be laid aside, 
and people are so unkindly curious as to ask who 
did it, what would the answer be ? Here is a 
194 


A Drug 

young man in the same house, who has any 
number of opportunities of administering the 
drug, and the strongest reason for wishing the 
young fellow out of the way — a rival likely to be 
an unsuccessful rival. Who would think of look- 
ing any further ? And what should we do ? 
I should suggest that we should say something 
to this effect — ‘ This is a very deplorable affair ; 
we cannot think of making a profit out of it ; we 
cancel all the wagers which we laid against our 
poor friend. We lament his loss as much as any 
one, and this is our way of showing it — a very 
poor way, but all that we can do.” It is true that 
we should lose some twenty minas 1 apiece, but 
then, think what an advertisement ! And, after 
all, we shall be out of the hole pretty cheaply.” 

This was convincing, and Cleon went to the 
meeting fully prepared with what had to be 
said. Dromeus went, as may be supposed, 
straight to the point. 

“ Well,” he said, “ have you anything further 
to tell me about the drug ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Cleon, “ it is a well-known 
article in the trade. They say that it is made 
out of some herb which the stags eat to give 
themselves speed, ‘ deers’ garlic ’ they call it . 2 

1 About £80. 

2 Elaphoscorodon , mentioned by Dioscorides. 

195 


A Drug 

That may or may not be true. The medicine- 
sellers have a way of inventing these particulars. 
But I believe that it is really a very effective thing, 
probably because it works on the heart and lungs. 
However, we need not trouble ourselves about 
this ; the really important thing is the counter- 
acting drug. And here we have a choice of 
three or four.” 

“ I should not like to hurt the poor fellow,” 
said Dromeus, who, when he was not mastered 
by his special faults, was not ill-natured. “ He 
has no business here, but I should be very 
sorry to do him a real injury.” 

“ Of course not,” replied Cleon. “ I should 
hate doing any such thing quite as much as you. 
We understand each other then. I find the 
medicine, and you will take an opportunity 
of administering it. I would impress upon you 
not to lose any time, and to be very careful about 
observing the directions that may come with 
the medicine. Of course you will contrive that 
no one should know.” 

“ You are sure,” cried Dromeus, who began 
to feel somewhat uneasy, “ you are sure that it 
would not do any real harm ? ” 

“ Of course not,” answered Cleon. “ What 
do you take me for ? Do I look like a poisoner ? ” 

He certainly looked like a villain, whether he 
196 


A Drug 

had the peculiar poisoner characteristic or no, 
and Dromeus could not help thinking so. How- 
ever, he was too deeply committed to draw back. 
“ And after all,” he argued with himself — argu- 
ments which one half of the conscience uses to 
the other half seldom fail to persuade — “ a man 
cannot help his looks.” After a pause of reflec- 
tion he went on : “ Then I rely upon you. And 
when shall you have it ready ? ” 

“ I shall have it to-day,” answered Cleon. 
“ Be here again at sunset, and I will hand it to 
you then. If by any chance I should fail to get 
it, then come this time to-morrow.” 

By the time appointed for the meeting Dro- 
meus had contrived to swallow his scruples. He 
received the drug with instructions how to use 
it. It was in a liquid form, and was in a very 
small compass, and so could be easily dropped 
into a cup of water. It will suffice to say that 
the opportunity was found and duly used. 


197 


CHAPTER XXI 


An Antidote. 

Among Cleonice’s neighbours was one to whom 
she was greatly attached. The tie between 
them was of a particularly tender kind, for Tec- 
messa — -this was the neighbour’s name — was her 
foster sister, her elder by some three months. 
They had played together as children. Later 
on, Tecmessa had been with her as companion- 
maid, treated with a familiar kindness which 
never seemed to recognize any distinction of 
degree, but returning all the affection showed 
her with a delicate sense that the distinction was 
there after all. Ladies in the position of Cleon- 
ice often treat inferiors as if they were equals, 
and are perfectly sincere in so doing, while yet 
they unconsciously expect an answering demean- 
our that an equal would not assume. Tec- 
messa had borne herself in this somewhat diffi- 
cult position with the greatest tact and discre- 
tion, and the relation between the two had not 
been troubled by even a hint of disturbance or 
198 


An Antidote 


misunderstanding. About a year and a half 
before the time my narrative has now reached, 
Tecmessa had married. Her husband was a 
prosperous, and, if public opinion could be 
trusted, a well-conducted young trader. He 
dealt in a variety of articles, the principal of 
which were wines, spices and drugs, and was 
able to give his wife a well-furnished and com- 
fortable home. There was not a better kept 
household of the class in all Corinth than that 
of Alexander and Tecmessa. They had one 
child, a boy of some five months old. 

The baby was one morning seized with some 
mysterious ailment, which entirely perplexed 
both the father, who had some medical know- 
ledge of a sort, and the local physician, a slave 
whom his owner permitted to practise on con- 
dition of receiving a certain part of his gains. 
Modern medicine would no doubt have given 
the illness a name, for the science has advanced 
prodigiously in classifying, though not perhaps 
so much in curing. The first thought then 
was to find a cause in the action of some deity. 
The child had been smitten, they said, with one 
of the shafts of Apollo . 1 Then came the ques- 
tion, how had the parents provoked the wrath 

1 Apollo was supposed to be the inflicter of sudden death 
in the case of males, Artemis in the case bf females. 

199 


An Antidote 


of the deity ? And here the father was visited 
with a recollection that struck him with dismay 
and remorse. 

“ Oh, Tecmessa,” he cried, 44 I fear me much 
that I am in fault. Even before this dreadful 
thing happened I was anything but easy in my 
mind. Yesterday about an hour after noon a 
customer came in, who asked for a particular 
kind of medicine. I have to keep it, but I must 
own that I don’t like selling it. It is an excel- 
lent medicine, but then a man may easily do 
himself a great mischief, if he does not know 
what he is using, or may do a great mischief 
to some one else if he does know. Still one 
can hardly refuse a customer. It is like say- 
ing to a man, 4 You are either a fool or a 
poisoner.’ Well, I sold some of it yesterday. 
I thought that I had seen the man’s face before, 
but could not fix it, and then it passed out of 
mind altogether. This morning I heard that 
Eubulus, the great runner, whom everybody is 
talking about in Corinth, had been suddenly 
taken ill. And then it burst upon me all of 
a sudden that the purchaser was one Cleon, a 
betting man of no good reputation. Good 
Heavens ! What is to be done ? ” 

44 Perhaps,” said Tecmessa, 44 the lady Cleonice 
will think of something. She is a wonderfully 
200 


An Antidote 

clever lady. And here, by good luck, she is com- 
ing.” 

So it was. Cleonice seldom let a couple of days 
go by without paying a visit to her humble friend ; 
so it was nothing strange that she should make 
her appearance just in the nick of time. She 
quite deserved Tecmessa’s praise ; she was won- 
derfully clever ; and her native wit at once 
suggested some simple means for giving the little 
sufferer at least some temporary ease. While 
this remedy was being applied, she heard the 
husband’s story, and here again she was equal to 
the occasion. 

“ You found the poison,” she exclaimed, 
“ can’t you find the antidote ? ” 

“ Dear me,” cried the husband, striking his 
hands together, “ what an idiot I have been not to 
think of it ! But that baby screaming and writh- 
ing about fairly drove everything out of my head. 
Antidote ! of course I can find an antidote.” 

“ Then don’t lose a moment in doing it. Go 
and make it up at once and follow me to Aquila’s 
tent-factory. You know the place ? But stay, 
how long will you be about the andidote ? ” 

“ I believe that I have some ready made up,” 
answered the man. 

“ In that case,” said Cleonice, “ it will save 
time if you will come with me.” 

201 


An Antidote 


The chariot in which the girl had come was stand- 
ing at the door ; and the chemist, who had found 
a dose of the antidote ready, as he had hoped, 
mounted, not a little abashed at finding himself in 
so fashionable a vehicle. The party was fortunate 
enough to find Priscilla at home, and reinforced 
by her, a naturally capable person, with a large 
experience gathered in years of charitable minis- 
tration to others, went on at once to the trainer’s 
house. Here confusion reigned supreme. The 
trainer himself was in despair. Such a thing had 
never before come within the range of his experi- 
ence The young man, such was the upshot of 
the narrative which his visitors somehow con- 
trived to extract from him, had shown all his 
usual vigour at the exercises, and was just rising 
from the evening meal, when he fell back speech- 
less and senseless. The physician attached to 
the school had been hastily summoned, and had 
not hesitated, on a review of the symptoms, to 
pronounce that his patient had been poisoned. 
Before his arrival, however, a rough and ready 
remedy had been applied which had possibly 
saved the young man’s life. One of the pupils 
had a faint recollection of seeing a similar case 
healed by the application of a strong current of 
cold water to the back of the neck. This was 
done, and pulsation, which appeared to be 
202 


An Antidote 


suspended, was revived . 1 The physician had 
nothing to suggest except the administration of 
a cordial. This had been attempted, but with 
little success. The patient’s teeth were firmly 
clenched, and it was almost impossible to make 
him swallow. This physical difficulty was the 
first that had to be overcome. How Priscilla 
overcame it is beyond the present chronicler’s 
power to describe. She had had a large experi- 
ence in a class of disease much more frequent in 
Southern Europe than in our own land, a class 
of which the generic name is tetanus or lockjaw, 
and of which this is the most painful and per- 
plexing symptom. After a long course of patient 
effort she accomplished her end ; the antidote 
was administered and its powerfully stimulant 
qualities made it speedily effective. During 
some part of the time Cleonice had been present 
rendering such help as she could. As the crisis 
approached, Priscilla, almost fearing that an 
experience so full of excitement might throw 
another patient on her hands, compelled her to 
retire. When appearances began to indicate the 
favourable result of which at one time every one 
had despaired, she could not resist the temptation 

1 Probably the young man had been dosed with some pre- 
paration of the strychnine kind. 

203 


An Antidote 


of calling her back. The situation was, as we 
know, profoundly interesting to her, and she 
could not decline the chance of seeing how it 
would develop itself. As a nurse, too, she could 
easily persuade herself that nothing could be 
better for the patient than that his eyes should 
first open on what she knew was the dearest sight 
that this world could show him. 

The result was all that she could hope for. 
Cleonice, whom Priscilla had not forgotten to 
put exactly where the young man’s eyes would 
be likely first to fall, could not fail to see that the 
young man recognized her. The first gaze of 
his wide-open eyes was without meaning ; then 
as consciousness returned, it became instinct with 
a fullness of joy and love which it was impossible 
to mistake. The girl turned away in surprise 
and confusion; one wonders whether she was 
wholly without some anticipation of what she 
saw, but we may be sure that an hour of eloquent 
speech could not have set forth the secret of his 
heart more plainly and forcibly than did that one 
glance of returning life. 

The poison was not one of those that injure 
the tissues of the body or permanently impair 
its organs. Its danger lies in the power that 
it has to bring about a sudden suspension of 
animation. It is not unlike a case of drowning. 

204 


An Antidote 


Recover the drowned, or apparently drowned, 
person, before the heart and lungs have been 
inactive too long, and he has received no perma- 
nent injury. Eubulus, accordingly, was soon 
himself again ; a day or two sufficed for com- 
plete recovery from the shock. Of course his 
popularity in Corinth was enormously increased. 
The news of an adventure that had come so very 
near to being fatal increased the interest felt 
in him by his fellow citizens almost beyond 
precedent. 

As for Dromeus, he was seen no more at the 
trainer’s, or anywhere else in Corinth. It would 
not have been safe for him to show himself any- 
where in the town, for he would infallibly have 
been lynched. His conduct when Eubulus was 
suddenly seized with illness had caused suspicion ; 
he was no hardened criminal, always able to hide 
his feelings. But he was forgotten in the general 
confusion, and he took the opportunity thus 
given him to escape. He had the wit to see that 
he was not likely to make a success of the tradi- 
tional profession of his family, and applied him- 
self to some mercantile pursuit, and but for an 
occasional hint that if it had not been for the 
malevolence of his enemies he would have been 
the first athlete in Greece, he passed the rest of 
his life with an eminently respectable character. 

205 


An Antidote 


As for the confederates, they had fought, it 
might be said, a drawn battle. They had accom- 
plished nothing as far as the disabling of the 
athlete was concerned, and they felt that this 
avenue at least was closed against them. If they 
were to accomplish their object it must be done 
in some other way. On the other hand, they had 
escaped without suspicion. Dromeus had practi- 
cally acknowledged his guilt by his precipitate 
flight. They were not absolutely discouraged, 
but they felt that they were driven into a corner ; 
the time was short and speedy action was neces- 
sary. We shall see in the next chapter what was 
the device to which they had recourse. 


206 


CHAPTER XXII 


Fresh Plots 

The three confederates had in their pay one of 
the slaves belonging to the trainer’s household. 
This fellow played the same part as do the touts 
on an English racecourse. He reported per- 
formances, gave the current gossip of the establish- 
ment — in short, kept his employers supplied with 
the latest information about what had happened 
or was expected to happen. Beyond this he 
did not go ; he was not acquainted with their 
schemes, but simply told them what he heard 
or saw. From this man the three heard of 
Eubulus’s sudden illness, of his speedy recovery, 
and of Dromeus’s departure. The news was, 
of course, a disappointment. So much time 
had been lost, and they were no nearer their 
end. Still things might have been worse. It 
was an immense relief that Dromeus had dis- 
appeared. He might have turned against them ; 
and his evidence, for which it would not have 
been difficult for him to find corroboration, would 
207 


Fresh Plots 


have been most damaging. That danger, any- 
how, was over. Still the question remained, 
and the time for finding an answer was short. 
How were they to save themselves against the 
consequence of Eubulus’s victory, an event now 
more likely than ever ? They knew from their 
agent that the young man was none the worse 
for his illness, and they lost no time, as may be 
imagined, in meeting to review the situation. 

Ariston was disposed to take credit to himself 
for having foretold or at least hinted at the 
failure of the enterprise. 

“ I have always held,” he said, “ that there is 
nothing like cold steel. Your poisons are very 
clever, I allow, if you can only get them to work 
without intermission. And I allow that it is a 
great advantage that very often you are not 
called to account for administering them. But 
then ‘ there’s many a slip ’twixt cup and lip.’ 
As we have just seen, there are antidotes to be 
reckoned with. And if you get home to a man’s 
heart with a dagger, there is no antidote for 
that.” 

“ It’s all very well,” said Cleon, whose annoy- 
ance at the failure of his scheme was not a little 
increased by such talk, “it is all very well to talk 
about the dagger, but who is going to use it ? 
When and where will you find the opportunity ? 

208 


Fresh Plots 


This young fellow is just now the observed of 
all observers. Where do you propose to get at 
him ? In the trainer’s house ? Why, it is 
guarded like a tyrant’s palace. They were 
always careful ; but now, after this last business, 
they are more careful than ever. In the streets ? 
with scores of people always running after him ? 
You might by the greatest good luck deal him 
a blow. But what then ? Where is your chance 
of escape ? Why, you would be infallibly torn 
to pieces. I must own that this sort of thing is 
not to my liking. Why, I would sooner pay 
up than face a howling mob of Corinthians when 
I had just stabbed their favourite runner.” 

“ My dear Cleon,” retorted Ariston, “ you 
are really somewhat wanting in imagination. 
You don’t suppose that I am going to behave 
like some silly boy, who when he has a quarrel 
with a companion has no other idea of making 
it straight than giving him a box on the ear. 
No, I know a better way than that, and I will 
tell you what it is. I propose that we forge a 
message from Eubulus’s father — I don’t know 
whether you are aware that he is now living at 
Mantinea — -to this effect : that he is dying, and 
that he must see his son before his death, having 
some secret of immense importance to com- 
municate to him. Well, he sets out — he is not 
209 o 


Fresh Plots 


the sort of fellow to neglect a message of that 
kind — and we waylay him.” 

“ That sounds easy enough,” said Cleon, 
“ but how are we to waylay him ? He is certain 
not to be alone, and we are likely to fail just as 
much as in the Dromeus business, and with 
much worse consequences to ourselves.” 

“ A want of imagination again,” said Ariston. 
“ I didn’t mean, of course, that you and I and De- 
mocles were to waylay him. Have you ever heard 
of Pauson the robber chief ? Well ; I know how 
to get into touch with him, and my plan is that 
he and his band should do the waylaying. As 
to after developments, we must leave them for 
the present. I am still for putting the young 
fellow out of the way. Still, I am not bigoted 
to that idea. If it can be arranged — for a cer- 
tainty, mark you, and no possible mistake — that 
he does not win the race, let him live. That, 
however, may be postponed for the present. 
What must be done at once is the getting hold 
of Pauson, for there is no time to lose. Now, 
my friends, what do you say to this ? Have you 
got any better scheme of your own. If not, do 
you approve ? If you do, I will start in the 
course of a few hours.” 

Agree they did — in fact, there was scarcely a 
210 


Fresh Plots 


choice — and Ariston’s scheme seemed to have 
some promise of success. Meanwhile two actors, 
whose earlier appearance in the drama I am 
representing, my readers will doubtless remember, 
had again come upon the stage. These were 
the Corsican captain of the ship The Twin 
Brothers and the bandit chief from the Gallin- 
arian Wood. The wheat trade carried on by 
Manasseh and Company, if the phrase may be 
allowed, had not been interrupted by the banish- 
ment of the Jews from Rome ; the business had 
been temporarily assigned to a Gentile partner. 
But the Corsican’s employment had been inter- 
rupted by another cause. The Twin Brothers , 
which, under the charge of an incompetent 
pilot, had been damaged by being run upon one 
of the moles in the harbour of Ostia, had been 
laid up for repairs. The captain had arranged 
for the execution of this work, and acting on 
permanent instructions from his employers had 
charged some one whom he could trust with the 
business of seeing that they were properly exe- 
cuted. He was quite aware that this sort of 
thing did not fall within his own province, and 
he was also rejoiced to get quit of a tedious 
piece of business which would keep him hanging 
about the harbour just at the season of the year 
when it was even less agreeable than usual. The 
21 1 


Fresh Plots 


question then presented itself, where should his 
enforced holiday be spent? There were various 
reasons that suggested Corinth. The chief, 
for whom he had a genuine respect, was there, 
and he might be of service to him and his son, 
and then there was the forthcoming spectacle 
of the Isthmian Games. There were also per- 
manently interesting features in the place. The 
city was one of the great centres of the carrying 
trade of the world, and the Corsican was sure 
that he might pick up some knowledge about 
professional details which would be of service 
to him in his work. He was about to set out, 
and purposed to make his journey by sea, when 
he bethought him of the bandit chief. The man 
was probably by this time ready, or nearly 
ready, to get about again. What was he to do ? 
or what was to be done with him ? The 
Corsican felt himself in a way responsible for 
him, and he came, without much hesitation, to 
the conclusion to take him with him to Corinth. 
Accordingly he altered his route, made his way 
to the place where the man had been left to 
recover from his injuries, and finding him fairly 
well restored, brought him to Corinth in his 
company. 

The two had been in the town a day or so, and 
happened to be standing near the southern 
212 


Fresh Plots 


gate of the city when a traveller who had the 
appearance of being equipped for a journey, for 
his horse carried heavy saddle-bags, passed out 
by the gate. The time was near sunset, and as 
the road happened not to bear a very good 
reputation, the proceeding struck the two as 
somewhat strange. The Corsican, whose hearty 
manners put him on friendly terms with every- 
body, spoke to the porter in charge of the gate. 

“ I do not know what you think, but this is 
hardly the time that I should choose for starting 
on a journey, especially if I had to travel by this 
road, which, they tell me, is not as safe as it* 
might be.” 

“ It is a little odd,” replied the porter, “ but 
I suppose that he knows what he is about.” 

“ Do you know him ? ” asked the Corsican. 

“ Oh, yes, I know him,” said the porter, with 
a smile. “ He is no greenhorn, as you might 
think. He knows the point of a sword from 
the hilt, if any man in Corinth does.” 

“ Who is he ?” 

“ Well, his name is Ariston ; he is a betting 
man, and as sharp as they make them ; much 
more in the way, I should say, of lightening other 
people’s purses than of letting other people 
lighten his. But it is not my business to give 
him advice. If it had been a young fellow now, 
213 


Fresh Plots 


one who did not know his way about, I might 
have made so bold as to say a word ; but Ariston 
is not one of that sort : he must go his own way.” 

Rufus, the ex-bandit — he had definitely 
retired from the profession — pulled his compan- 
ion’s cloak, and whispered that they should 
move out of earshot. 

“ I could not quite catch what the fellow 
said ; he talked such queer Greek.” Rufus, it 
may be explained, was bilingual, as were many 
of the Italians of the south , 1 but his Greek was 
naturally something of a patois, while the porter’s 
speech was fairly pure, of course with the broad 
vowels of the Corinthian dialect, but still good 
enough. “ You were talking about the traveller 
— was it not so ? ” 

The Corsican explained to his companion 
what had been said. Rufus mused awhile. 

“ Maybe,” he said, “ he wants to meet these 
gentlemen of the road. You see I know some- 
thing of the ins and outs of the business. I 
have had to do in my time with some very re- 
spectable persons indeed, and what used to happen 
when they had something particular to tell us, 

1 The southern part of the peninsula, my readers will remem- 
ber, had been known by the name of Magna Graecia. Polybius 
(203-1 2 1 b.c.) is the first writer to employ the name, of course in 
its Greek equivalent, but it had been in use long before. 

214 



Ariston riding out of Corinth, 











































































































Fresh Plots 

was that they were taken prisoners. It seemed 
straightforward to other people.” 

“ Well, my good Rufus,” said the Corsican, 
“ there could hardly be a better judge in such 
matters than you. It is quite clear that there 
is some plot hatching, but I don’t know that it 
is any business of ours to meddle with it. But 
we will keep our ears and eyes open, and it is 
quite possible that we may understand what 
puzzles other people.” 


215 


CHAPTER XXIII 


Among the Hills 

Ariston had calculated his time with sufficient 
nicety. Riding at a smart pace for about an 
hour and a half, he came to a spot where he had 
calculated on finding some of the bandit troop 
on the watch for travellers. And there, accord- 
ingly, he found them. The men were allowed 
to deal as they thought best with wayfarers 
who did not seem to be of any particular import- 
ance or to promise any noteworthy gain. The 
poor they left absolutely unharmed. It was 
an axiom in their occupation to make friends 
with this class. In every age and all the world 
over the professional robber has claimed to be 
the champion of the poor. He does his best, 
he would say, to redress the inequalities of life, 
to make the rich a little less rich, if he does not 
accomplish very much to making the poor less 
poor. Practically they know that their days are 
numbered if for any reason the labouring class 
of the region where they are at work turn against 
them. Travellers of the middle class were allowed 
216 


Among the Hills 

to pass on paying a toll which was nicely calculated 
to suit the apparent means, present or future, 
of the victim. A long experience had taught 
the members of the band who were detailed for 
outpost duty what they might reasonably and 
profitably ask from those who came in their way. 
Ariston seemed to be of the class who would pay 
a moderate toll. When he was informed of 
the amount which was expected of him, five 
shillings or so, he acknowledged that it was 
perfectly reasonable. “ As a matter of fact, how- 
ever,” he went on, “ I have come here on business, 
and profitable business too, I hope. Perhaps you 
will take me toPauson — Pauson is still in command, 
I presume — for I am bound to put him in possess- 
ion of the facts. Meanwhile, gentlemen, I am 
much obliged to you for your courtesy. I am 
not a rich man, but if the price of as good a 
flagon of wine as can be got in this country is 
of any use to you, it is at your service.” And 
he pressed a silver coin into the hand of each 
of his two captors. 

Pauson and his men were bivouacking in an 
open space in the wood which bordered the road 
on both sides. They were about to sit down to 
their evening meal, at which Ariston was asked to 
join them. A sign had passed between his captors 
or friends, as we may be pleased to call them, 
217 


Among the Hills 

indicating that this hospitality might be properly 
extended to him. The meal finished, Ariston 
suggested a private interview with the chief, 
and on obtaining it, proceeded to propound 
his plan. 

“ I will be perfectly straightforward with you,” 
he went on, after explaining that he wanted to 
have Eubulus captured and carried off. “ I am 
acting for some friends. It is essential for us 
that Eubulus should not win the race. For 
helping us to that result we are ready to pay 
you. That then is your first profit out of the 
business. Then the young man has friends in 
Corinth, friends who will be willing to pay 
ransom, but not, I take it, a very high ransom. 
They are not old friends, you will understand, 
and they are not, as far as we know, really rich. 
Still there will be a ransom, I do not doubt. 
You will easily reckon out what you may judi- 
ciously ask. Now comes in another considera- 
tion. I don’t conceal from you that, on the 
whole, we should prefer to have the young 
man put out of the way altogether. ‘Dead men 
tell no tales ’ ; that, I take it, is a proverb that 
you fully appreciate. What I propose, then, is 
that when you have fixed the amount of ransom 
which you think of asking, you will give us the 
choice of paying it, and with it, of course, the 
218 


Among the Hills 

liberty of dealing with the young man as we see 
fit.” The chief looked at his visitor with an 
admiration that was half ironical. 

“ You gentlemen of the city,” he said, after 
a pause, “ are thorough-going. We simple folk 
out in the country here cannot pretend to come 
up to you. We don’t like killing people. Of 
course it has to be done from time to time. If 
a man is foolish enough to resist when we want 
to take him — well, he leaves us no choice. Then 
again, if a man’s friends don’t care to ransom 
him — we always are strictly moderate in our 
charges — then again we have no choice. It 
must be established as a rule without an excep- 
tion — no ransom, no release. Why, if we were 
to let men go without payment made, we should 
have half Corinth coming out to spend their holi- 
days free of expense among the mountains. To 
think that we should keep an idle fellow for a 
month, eating and drinking of the best — we 
never stint our guests, and their appetites are 
tremendous after the first day or two — and that 
he should get off scot-free at the last, the idea 
is absolutely preposterous. But to take ransom 
for him, and then let him be killed before he 
gets home — that is not our way. It would be a 
serious injury to our character, for we have to 
think of that just like other people.” 

219 


Among the Hills 

“ But it wouldn’t be your doing,” said Ariston, 
“ it would be ours.” 

“ The world is very uncharitable,” replied 
Pauson, “ and especially in its dealings with us, 
and we should have the thing laid at our door 
for a certainty. You see when we take ransom 
for a prisoner we give him what is virtually a 
safe conduct to his home. If we were to let 
him go and then take him again it would be pure 
villainy, and killing him or letting him be killed — 
for it comes to the same thing — when he is on his 
way back would be altogether unfair.” 

“ Well,” said Ariston, “ if you won’t have it, you 
won’t, and we must make another plan. But you 
understand that the young man is not to get back 
to Corinth before the race. That is essential.” 

“ I understand,” answered Pauson. “ And 
how do you propose to get him here ? ” 

Ariston explained the plan of the forged 
message. “ And here,” he went on, “ you may 
be able to help us. We want a messenger. 
Can you find us one ? ” 

“ Well,” said the chief, “ Corinth is not 
exactly the place my men would choose for 
spending a day’s holiday. It is too close and shut 
up, and sometimes very unhealthy. I have 
known men who were in the soundest health 
die there in a quite unaccountable way. No : 

220 


Among the Hills 

we prefer the air of the hills. But stay ; I think 
that I can help you after all. We had a new 
recruit join us last night. He might do : they 
don’t know his face, you see ; and they have 
a prejudice against those of us whom they do 
know. Where did you say the message was 
to come from ? ” 

“ From Mantinea,” replied Ariston. 

“ That suits exactly ; if I remember rightly 
the fellow comes from Mantinea, ran away, I 
take it, from his master, and made a little mis- 
take about money.” 

The recruit from Mantinea was accordingly 
sent for. It turned out that his case had been 
accurately divined by the brigand chief, who, 
of course, was familiar with the causes which 
swelled his numbers. He had forged his master’s 
signature to a receipt, and had misappropriated 
the money. Signature, it should be explained, 
is used in the first meaning of the word, the 
affixing of sign or seal. Writing was a com- 
paratively rare accomplishment in those days, 
and a document was “ signed ” when the person 
for whom it was drawn up put his sign or seal 
upon it . 1 The man had fled from Mantinea 

1 This is still often done, especially in the East, the practice 
being for the person “ signing 99 to dip the seal into ink and 
make an impression on the parchment or paper. 

221 


Among the Hills 

as soon as he found that his malpractices would 
be discovered. He had overheard talk about 
making a second application to the debtor from 
whom he had received payment, and he knew 
that inquiries must result in detection. Accord- 
ingly he made his escape from the town, and 
carried the seal, to which by Eumenes’ careless- 
ness — and Eumenes, as has been said, did not 
manage his affairs with prudence — he had had 
access. The whole business now became easy 
enough. It would have been difficult to success- 
fully imitate a handwriting throughout a whole 
letter, but nothing of the kind was wanted. 
The usual communication in such a case would 
be this. A notary would take down from dicta- 
tion or would prepare according to instructions 
a statement of what was to be said, and to this the 
sign of the person from whom it proceeded would 
be affixed. The miscellaneous gathering of which 
Pauson’s band was composed contained a rascal 
who had served in a notary’s office, and who 
could write the clerkly handwriting common 
to this class of employes. One notary’s hand- 
writing was scarcely distinguishable from that 
of another. What may be called a professional 
appearance was common to all documents so 
prepared. The fact that from beginning to 
end they were written in capitals made them 
222 


Among the Hills 

appear, except, perhaps, to the eyes of an expert, 
absolutely alike. The ex-scribe lost no time in 
preparing a letter that purposed to be addressed 
by Eumenes to his son Eubulus. It ran thus : 

“ Eumenes to his son Eubulus with hearty 
greeting. I charge you by all that you have 
received at my hands and by all the love which 
I know you bear to me that you come hither 
without delay. I am stricken with a mortal 
disease, and I have that to say to you which 
greatly concerns the happiness of your mother 
and your brothers and sisters. I speak not of 
yourself, for I know it is your nature to think 
rather of others.” 

To this document the seal was duly applied. 
So furnished, the messenger set forth. 


223 


CHAPTER XXIV 


Before the Archon 

The plot had all the success which the combina- 
tion of favourable circumstances seemed to 
promise for it. The bearer of the forged letter 
covered the distance that lay between his starting 
point and Corinth so quickly that he reached 
his destination before noon on the following 
day , 1 and he had no difficulty in finding 
the trainer’s house, and in delivering the false 
missive to the person to whom it was addressed. 
It caused, as may easily be supposed,, no small 
disturbance. The trainer was furious, all the 
more so as he felt he could not with a good 
grace, or even with any reasonable hope of 
success, object to the young man obeying the 
summons. After all a man is an apparently 
reasonable creature, and cannot be handled with 
the compulsion that is used with animals. A 
horse may be forced with whip and spur to make 

1 It will be remembered that all the distances in Greece 
are small. Athens was not more than 140 miles from Sparta 
on one side and from the northern boundary of Greece on the 
other. 


224 


Before the Archon 

an extraordinary effort, but he cannot be made 
to run a whole race by the use of such stimulants. 
A man is even less amenable to force. Eubulus 
might be brought to the starting point, but 
unless he could be made to run with willingness 
and zeal, he might quite as well not have been 
brought thither. The trainer had the good 
sense to make no delay in yielding. If the 
thing had to be done, it would be better done at 
once. If the young man were to go at once, 
he might be back again in time to run the race. 
It was a lamentable contretemps ; still, it was 
not necessarily fatal. If the gods gave a speedy 
recovery or a speedy end to this most in- 
opportune illness, all might yet go well. As 
for Eubulus, he did not doubt for a moment 
the genuineness of the message. The thought 
never indeed occurred to him. He did not 
recognize the bearer as having been in Eumenes’ 
employment, but this was not likely. The 
workmen had been transferred with the building 
and apparatus to Aquila. On the other hand 
he knew the seal, impressions of which were 
sufficiently familiar, and the man was acquainted, 
as has been said, with a number of particulars 
connected with the family. He introduced in 
his talk various little details about this or that 
member of it in a way that would have dis- 
225 


p 


Before the Archon 


sipated any doubts, even if the young man had 
entertained them. The preparations for the 
journey were speedily made, for they were of 
the slightest. The young man carried with 
him a small stock of food, just as much as he 
could carry without hindrance to his speed. 
He hoped to reach Mantinea, which was little 
more than forty miles distant, before sunset, 
and he promised that he would return, unless 
absolutely prevented by circumstances, on the 
third day. The trainer had no alternative to 
accepting this conditional promise. He implored 
the young man not to fail him : to lose what he 
said was as near a certainty as anything in human 
life could possibly be, would, he said, be the 
height of folly. He repeated his entreaties and 
commands with pathetic insistence up to the 
very moment of Eubulus’s departure. When the 
young man was out of sight he burst into tears 
of mixed vexation and anger — tears were a relief 
to the feelings in which the impetuous Greek 
was very ready to indulge. Recovering from 
his outburst, he bethought him of something 
which might possibly help to bring about an 
accomplishment of his wishes. Though not 
by any means used to exercises of piety he deter- 
mined to offer a sacrifice to Hermes, an appropriate 
deity, as being at once the patron god of the race- 
226 


Before the Archon 


course and of athletics generally, and also the 
giver of good luck. This done, he sat down to 
wait, with as much patience as he could muster, 
the issue of the affair. It may be easily supposed 
that his household, whether competitors in training 
or slaves, did not have for the next few days an 
easy time. The messenger, though he received 
from Pauson the strictest commandment to 
return at once, could not resist the temptation 
of stopping a day or two in Corinth. He was 
a dissipated young fellow, and he had two or 
three gold pieces in his pocket ; to such a man 
so circumstanced the city offered irresistible 
attractions. In any case his revels would not 
have lasted very long, for Corinth was notorious 
among the cities of Greece for the speed with 
which she emptied the pockets of her guests, 
but they were very soon brought to an end . 1 
The trainer had given him an hospitable 
draught of wine, of a quality and potency to 
which he was not accustomed. This, swallowed 
while he was yet fasting, had upset his balance. 
Another flagon purchased at a wine shop hard 
by had completed his overthrow. The next 

1 Non cuivis contingit adire Corinthum , which may be 
translated by “It is not for every man to pay a visit to Corinth 
is Horace’s translation of a well known Greek proverb : 
ov 7T ai'TO? aySpos ck Kopu Oov iaO’ 6 7rAot'?. 

227 


Before the Archon 


thing was a drunken brawl, for he was ever 
quarrelsome in his cups, and the end that in less 
than four hours after passing through the gate 
of Corinth he was in the custody of the guardians 
of the city’s peace. 

Archias had happened to be on his way back 
from one of the temples to his official residence 
when the disturbance took place, and he gave 
orders that the culprit should be brought before 
him at once. Half sobered by this fright, but 
not yet in full command of such faculties as he 
possessed, the man could think of nothing better 
than telling so much of the truth as would not 
absolutely incriminate him. He had come, he 
said, from Mantinea with a message from Eumenes, 
who had quite recently come to live in that city, 
to his son at Corinth. The message was to the 
effect that Eumenes was dangerously ill and 
desired to see his son without delay. 

All this sounded sufficiently true. Archias was 
aware of his own knowledge that Eumenes had 
lately left Corinth to take up a situation at 
Mantinea, and that Eubulus was his son. 

“ Where,” he asked, “ did you deliver the 
message ? ” 

“ At the trainer’s house,” was the reply. 

A slave was dispatched with instructions to 
find^out whether this account was correct. The 
228 


Before the Archon 


result appeared to be satisfactory. The trainer’s 
narrative exactly bore out the statement of the 
accused. The message itself which Eubulus had 
left behind him in the hurry of departure, was 
produced, and seemed to be another link in the 
chain of evidence. It was exactly what the 
prisoner had described. Archias was about to 
discharge the man with a caution not to get into 
trouble, he salving the wound which he had 
inflicted with half a dozen drachmae, when an 
unexpected difficulty arose. The official who 
assisted the Archon when he was sitting on the 
Bench was an expert in documents, as indeed he 
needed to be. Frauds were very common, for 
they were easily committed. Signatures made 
in handwriting are frequently imitated ; when 
they were made by the purely mechanical method 
of dipping a seal into ink or other liquid, imita- 
tions were easy enough and naturally more 
frequent. He now whispered to the magistrate 
that he had some questions to ask about the 
document just brought into court. There was 
something suspicious about it, and it would be 
well to hear what the prisoner had to say. The 
Archon gave him permission to interrogate the 
prisoner, and cross-examination began. 

“ Did you see Eumenes sign this letter ? ” 

The prisoner would have done well to answer 
229 


Before the Archon 


this question in the negative, and to say that it 
had been brought from the sick man’s room, and 
handed to him for delivery, but he had a vague 
idea that by saying he had seen the signature 
affixed he would be adding to the apparent 
genuineness of the paper. 

“ You saw him dip the seal in the ink then ? ” 

“ Yes, I saw him.” 

The clerk’s next remark was not made aloud, 
but whispered into the Archon’s ear. 

“ As far as I can make out, the stuff into which 
the seal has been dipped is not ink at all, but 
a rude substitute for it.” 

Another question was addressed to the prisoner. 

“ And the paper ? Where did the paper come 
from ? Did you see the writer take it from a 
drawer or case, or was it handed to him ? ” 

The prisoner’s suspicions were aroused. These 
questions did not augur good. Immediately he 
stood on the defensive. 

“ I don’t know anything about the paper. It 
was lying by him when I came into the room, 
and I know nothing more than that he signed 
it.” 

The clerk now made another whispered com- 
munication to the magistrate. He had made 
some discoveries about the paper. He recognized 
it as a kind that was sold by a certain dealer in 
230 


Before the Archon 


Corinth, who received it direct from Egypt, and 
who used to declare that he had the monopoly of it. 
A piece of it might of course have found its way 
to Mantinea, but this was not very likely. Then, 
again, it looked as if it had been used before. 
Some writing could be faintly traced on the 
other side, one of the words looking somewhat 
like Corinth. On the whole the document had 
a somewhat suspicious appearance, and it seemed 
not unreasonable that the prisoner should be 
kept in custody till the matter could be more 
fully investigated. 

The court in which these proceedings had 
taken place was open to the public, and while 
they were going on two persons had come in 
whose presence happened to be singularly oppor- 
tune. The two were the Corsican captain and 
his now inseparable companion Rufus. 

The two had been listening with the deepest 
attention to an account given them by a by- 
stander of what had been going on. The prisoner, 
they were given to understand, had been taken 
into custody for taking part in a brawl, and had 
accounted for his presence in Corinth by saying 
that he had brought an urgent message to Eubulus 
the runner from his father at Mantinea. They 
had been long enough in Corinth to know some- 
thing about Eubulus, whose name, indeed, was 


Before the Archon 


in every one’s mouth. His mysterious illness 
and not less mysterious recovery had been freely 
canvassed. And the suspicion that things were 
not quite straight had been freely expressed. 
And now his name had turned up again. This 
time Rufus, who had a professional acquaintance 
with such matters, anticipated the conclusions 
of his companions. He had seen such devices 
practised, and had indeed taken part in practis- 
ing them himself. When he perceived that the 
genuineness of the summons was questioned — for 
so much could be gathered from the questions 
addressed to the prisoner by the magistrate’s 
clerk — he divined at once the character of the 
whole business. 

“ Depend upon it,” he whispered to the Corsican, 
“ this is another dodge to get at the runner. 
He has been enticed out of the city by a forged 
message, and there are fellows to lay hands on 
him. I have known such things done myself.” 

“ Then tell the magistrate what you suspect,” 
said the Corsican. 

“ I think that you had better do it,” answered 
Rufus. “ I must own that I am not quite at my 
ease when talking to gentlemen of his way of 
thinking.” 

The Corsican acknowledged the force of the 
remark, and rising from his seat at the back of 
232 


Before the Archon 


the court, said in passable Greek acquired during 
frequent residences at Alexandria, that he had 
something for the private ear of the Archon. 
He was accordingly invited to take a seat on the 
Bench, Rufus modestly remaining meanwhile 
in the background. His story carried conviction. 
The suspicious departure of Ariston fitted in 
exactly with what had happened since. They 
could hardly doubt that the attempt to disable 
Eubulus having failed, he had been lured out of 
the city by a forged message and was probably 
by this time in the hands of the brigands. 


233 


CHAPTER XXV 


A Dilemma 

The Archon was not a little struck by the energy 
and intelligence of the new comer, and proposed 
a further conference on the matter. The two 
accordingly retired to the magistrate’s private 
apartment. What had happened was sufficiently 
plain. If the magistrate had entertained any 
lingering doubts, these were dissipated when 
the Corsican related to him what Rufus had said. 
“ He would be here to repeat it,” he went on, 
“ but he has his prejudices, and just now he 
doesn’t feel quite at ease when he sees a magis- 
trate and his lictors and the other paraphernalia 
of a court. We may take it for granted, therefore, 
that the young man has been seized by the 
brigands. The question is — what is to be done ? ” 
“ The scoundrels will follow their usual course,” 
said the Archon, “ and will demand a ransom. 
And the ransom will have to be paid. It is not 
likely to be unreasonably large. The fellows 
234 


A Dilemma 


know their business too well to ask impossible 
sums. Indeed, I have often wondered how 
nicely they suit their demands to what they are 
likely to get.” 

“ I daresay,” remarked the Corsican with a 
smile, “ they have more friends in Corinth than 
anybody knows. They must certainly have some 
well-informed person to give them a hint.” 

“ And the ransom will have to be paid,” the 
Archon went on. “ It is a hateful necessity. 
Again and again I have felt my blood boil when 
I had to make a treaty, as it were, with these 
low-bred villains. I do think that if Rome takes 
away our arms, she ought to protect us. When 
Corinth was her own mistress, these scoundrels 
would have been swept off the face of the earth 
before the month was out. All this, however, 
is beside the purpose. The ransom must be 
paid, and if the young man’s friends have any 
difficulty in raising the money, I shall be glad to 
contribute.” 

“ That is very kind of you,” said the Corsican, 
“ and what you say about paying the ransom is 
quite true. But there is another side to the 
affair which, if you will allow me to say it, you 
do not seem to have taken into consideration.” 

“ Go on,” said the magistrate ; “ I never sup- 
posed that I was infallible. A man must be a 
235 


A Dilemma 


sad fool if he can sit in a court of justice for ten 
years, as I have done, without finding out that 
he can make mistakes.” 

“ This, sir,” replied the Corsican, “ is not a 
common case of holding to ransom. These 
betting fellows are mixed up with it. Their 
object, of course, is to keep Eubulus from running, 
They tried to do it with poison, unless I am very 
much mistaken, and failed ; now they have had 
recourse to another dodge, and I am afraid they 
are very likely to succeed.” 

At this moment Cleonice, who was something 
of a spoiled child, and felt no hesitation about 
entering her father’s sanctum, came into the room. 
The magistrate, who knew that it was his business 
to accept her will and pleasure, invited her to hear 
the matter in discussion. “ And indeed,” he 
went on, “ we shall be very glad if you can throw 
any light upon it. My good friend here and I 
are very much perplexed. Perhaps you will be 
able to suggest something, and it ought to interest 
you, for it concerns the young man who pulled 
you out of the water the other day. To put the 
matter shortly, the brigands have laid hold of 
him, and we want to know how to get him out 
of their hands.” 

Cleonice was quite sure that the matter did 
concern her. She was a little vexed at feeling 
236 


A Dilemma 


the blush that rose to her face, but she did not 
pretend to an y lack of interest. 

“ They will ask a ransom,” she said, “ and the 
ransom will have to be paid. There will be no 
difficulty, I suppose, about that. Eubulus has 
good friends in Corinth.” 

“ Very true,” replied her father, “ but as my 
friend here points out, it is a matter of time. 
Eubulus must be back before the race is run, and 
that is now but a few days off. These ransom 
affairs cannot be finished quickly. Neither side 
trusts the other. And if the brigands choose to 
make delay, they easily can.” 

Cleonice, after considering the problem to be 
solved, was obliged to confess that it puzzled 
her. Her father suggested a rescuing expedition, 
but soon allowed that it was impracticable. In 
the first place the city, though fairly well furnished 
with ordinary guardians of the peace, had no 
disciplined force at command, and this was a 
service, too, in which even an effective force may 
very easily fail. When the soldier is pitted 
against the brigand, he is very apt to be beaten. 
It is true that a State resolutely determined to 
clear its territory of banditti is bound to succeed 
sooner or later. But the success comes later 
rather than sooner. And, as has been said before, 
this was a question, and a very urgent question, 
237 


A Dilemma 


of time. The brigands might be driven from their 
usual haunts, but they would find others. Wher- 
ever they went, they would take their prisoner 
with them ; and if pushed too hard, they might 
kill him. It would not be the best policy to do so, 
but temper, always a force not easy to calculate, 
and especially violent in men used to deeds of 
violence when they feel themselves driven into 
a corner, has to be reckoned with. The Corsican 
suggested that possibly the bearer of the false 
message might be made use of. He was a scoun- 
drel, but still it might be made worth while even 
for a scoundrel to act straight. There was much 
to be said against the plan, but it might be better 
than nothing, and so might be used in the last 
resort. 

Cleonice left her father and the Corsican still 
debating, and retired to her chamber to think 
the matter over by herself. A little further 
reflection showed her that the first thing to be 
done was to communicate with Priscilla. That 
lady had showed so friendly and so practical an 
interest in the welfare of Eubulus, that it was 
her right to be at least informed of what had 
happened. To her accordingly the girl repaired 
without further delay. 

But Priscilla, with all her acuteness, common 
sense and readiness of resource, could add nothing 
238 


A Dilemma 


in conference. The dilemma still presented itself 
in all its cruel cogency. Force was inapplicable, 
and no adequate stratagem could be devised. 
The idea of employing the fraudulent messenger 
was hardly worth considering. 

The situation had been discussed for half an 
hour or more without making any apparent 
progress when an idea suddenly presented itself 
to the girl’s mind. She smote her hands to- 
gether, and cried “ By Hermes ! ” then she 
paused and excused herself to her companion, 
“ I know that you don’t like this way of talking, 
but it is an old habit, and the words were out 
of my mouth before I was aware. But it is 
really a happy thought, a godsend, if there ever 
was one. You know, or rather I should say, you 
don’t know, that my foster-mother lives in one 
of the villages which lie near to the brigand head- 
quarters. Her husband is the chief man of the 
place, and though he is supposed to be on the 
side of order, and would not, I am sure, lift his 
hand against a traveller, yet he is on good terms 
with the brigands. This is a kind of alliance 
that holds good, I take it, all the world over. The 
villagers, whose lot, after all, is a hard one — they 
do all the work and get but little for it — are paid 
for what they do, and the robbers, on the other 
hand, could not carry on without the villagers’ 
239 


A Dilemma 


goodwill. This good woman loves me as much 
as if I were her own child, and I am sure that she, 
and for the matter of that, her husband, would 
do anything they possibly could to help me. 
Yes ! I will see whether I can’t get Manto to 
do something for that unlucky young man.” 

“ But how will you get at her,” asked Priscilla. 
“Where is your messenger ? Whom can you 
trust ? Not that scoundrel, surely, who brought 
the forged letter ? ” 

“ No ! ” replied the girl, “ certainly not. I 
would not trust him an inch further than I can 
see. No, I would sooner take the message myself.” 

“ Well ! ” said Priscilla, “ that would be one 
way of doing it. But let me tell my husband ; 
perhaps he may be able to think of something.” 

Cleonice was more serious than her friend 
imagined in what she said. “ Yes, yes, tell him, 
and if he suggests anything, let me know at once.” 
And she hurried back to her father’s house. 


240 


CHAPTER XXVI 

Cleonice to the Rescue 

When Cleonice got back to the Mansion-house 
she found her father and the Corsican still 
engaged in the discussion of the problem before 
them, and still far from any reasonable solution 
of it. She had been struck, as indeed was every 
one, with the energy and common sense which 
were obvious characteristics of the captain, and 
she determined to enlist him as her ally. Her 
scheme was as yet but dimly outlined in her mind, 
but she felt that it was one which it would be 
prudent to keep to herself. The first thing to 
be done was to have a confidential conversation 
with her new ally. This could be easily managed 
under cover of the hospitality which it was only 
common politeness to offer to a guest. 

“ Don’t you think, father,” she said, “ that 
your friend would like some little refreshment ? 
It is past noon, and I am sure that something 
to eat and drink would be welcome.” 

“ By all means,” said Archias. “ It was very 
241 Q 


Cleonice to the Rescue 


remiss of me not to think of it before. My 
daughter,” he went on, turning to the Corsican, 
“ will take you to the steward’s room.” 

“ Many thanks,” said the Corsican, who had 
an intuition that the girl had something of import- 
ance to communicate. A touch of eagerness in her 
manner had suggested the idea, and he had 
caught it with the rapidity which made him so 
invaluable an assistant where promptitude of 
action was required. Cleonice, however, was 
too hospitable to broach the subject that was 
uppermost in her mind till she had seen him 
seated at his meal, and indeed fairly well advanced 
towards the end. 

“ You see no way,” she said, “ of helping the 
young man ? ” 

“ No,” he said, “ I do not.” 

“ Well then,” she went on, “ if you don’t 
mind taking a hint from a woman, I think I do 
see a way.” 

“ My dear lady,” replied the man, “ I not only 
don’t mind taking such a hint, but I shall be 
delighted. I am quite sure that when the ladies 
condescend to trouble themselves about any 
matter whatever, they have a readier wit and a 
finer sense of what can and what cannot be done 
than we men can ever pretend to.” 

“ Thanks for your compliment,” said Cleonice 
242 


Cleonice to the Rescue 


with a smile, “ but mind what I say is in con- 
fidence ; you must tell no one, least of all my 
father and mother. And I look to you for 
help.” 

“ Whatever you may tell me will be an absolute 
secret,” said the captain. 

“ Listen then,” replied the girl with a prettily 
imperious air which sat very well upon her. 
“ I have a scheme for getting Eubulus back, and 
back in time to run the race, and that neither 
by force nor by purchase.” 

“ Go on, madam, I am all attention.” 

“ My foster-mother lives in the village close 
to the robber’s headquarters : I mean her to do 
the thing for me, her or her husband.” 

“ But,” said the captain, “ how will you com- 
municate with her ? ” 

“ I shall go myself.” 

The girl had been thinking hard all the time, 
and had come to the conclusion that this was 
the only thing to be done. Even if she could 
find a messenger, he could not do such an errand. 
Only a practical appeal could avail. It would 
try this woman’s love to the utmost, for it was 
a dangerous service ; only a personal appeal, 
backed up by all the influence that she could 
bring to bear upon the heart of her foster-mother 
could possibly succeed. The Corsican was fairly 
243 


Cleonic£ to the Rescue 


taken aback. He was a man of audacious ex- 
pedients, but this staggered him. 

“ You, dear lady, you ? ” he stammered out. 

“ Yes,” answered the girl, “ I — I myself, and 
I look to you to help me. Mind, I have your 
promise. You will keep the secret, and you will 
do what you can to back me up.” 

“ I am not one to go back from my word,” 
said the man, “ but I must confess that I don’t 
like it. The risk is too awful.” 

“ Never mind about the risk — that is my look- 
out. I shall, of course, disguise myself as a boy. 
But that I have done for a joke before, and now 
the cause is serious enough in all conscience. I have 
thought out the whole plan. I have a little 
horse of my own that is kept in my father’s 
stables ; I shall ride that. There will be no 
difficulty about getting it. By good luck the man 
who looks after the horses does anything I tell 
him without asking a question. Will you come 
with me ? I don’t mean the whole way ; the 
last bit, when I get near the end of my journey, 
I must be alone. But will you go with me as far 
as I think fit ? If so, I will find a horse for you 
too. I must own that I should like to have your 
company as far as it is possible.” 

“ Of course, my dear lady, I will come.” 

The captain had begun to recover from his 
244 


Cleonice to the Rescue 


surprise, and saw that the best thing he could 
do was to help this determined young woman 
as much as he could. After all, though it looked 
like a wild scheme, it was not wholly without 
promise. Then a thought flashed across his 
mind. Why not get Rufus to come also ? A grim 
smile passed over his face as the idea occurred. 

“ Yes, I will come,” he repeated, “ and if you 
agree, I will bring some one else with me who may 
be very useful. To tell you the truth, my friend 
was a robber himself not very long ago. But 
he is as true as steel. I was able to help him when 
he wanted help very much, and he is never likely 
to forget it. He is a stout man of his hands, if 
there ever was one, and, besides that, his old 
experiences may come in useful.” 


245 


CHAPTER XXVII 
The Release 

It is needless to describe minutely the preparation 
of Cleonice and her allies for their expedition to 
the hills. The Corsican and Rufus were provided 
with horses from the Archon’s stables, and fur- 
nished themselves with arms such as could be 
carried without any display. Cleonice, it is 
hardly necessary to say, made a very good-looking 
boy. She had to shorten her hair, but not to crop 
it, for it was the fashion for the young to wear it 
long, even beyond the limits of boyhood . 1 It 
was not wholly without a pang that she made 
this sacrifice, but it was not a time for hesitating 
at trifles. A skilful application of dye gave a 
sunburnt look to her face and hands. Altogether 

1 It was worn long up to the time when the boy became an 
ephebus , and this time was fixed at the completion of the eight- 
eenth year. So Phaedo, who tells the tale of the last day of 
Socrates, as having been himself present, relates that the philo- 
sopher made a pleasant jest about his long hair. 

246 


The Release 


the disguise was as successful as could be desired. 
Everything was complete while the sun was still 
high in the heavens, and the start was made in 
such good time that the travellers might expect 
to reach their journey’s end about sunset. 

The plan of operations had of course to be 
left to Cleonice, for she, and she alone of the 
three, knew anything about the region to be 
traversed. Her object was to reach her foster- 
mother’s cottage without observation, and the 
way in which she hoped to accomplish this end 
was as follows. The road was bordered on one 
side by a wood, and she proposed that she and 
her companions should diverge into this while 
still two miles or so short of the place where the 
outposts of the robbers might be expected to be 
found. She had a thorough knowledge of the 
locality. When she was some ten years old she 
had paid a long visit to her foster-mother. Her 
health had seemed in some danger of failing, and 
the family physician had recommended a com- 
plete change of life. Archias had proposed to 
take a house somewhere out of Corinth, but the 
physician had declared that this would not be 
enough. 

“ She wants,” he said, “ something more than 
a change of air. You say that Sicyon is a bracing 
place, that it looks north, and so on. Very 
247 


The Release 


true ; I often recommend it for that reason. 
But that wouldn’t help this child much. You 
take a house at Sicyon ; well, but she would be 
living there in exactly the same way as she is 
living here. ‘ No lessons,’ you say. Very good ; 
but still the same atmosphere. The same abun- 
dance, the same luxuries — everything, in fact, the 
same. Now I want to change all that. She 
must live a different life ; she must be turned 
from an aristocrat into a peasant. There’s 
her foster-mother. Why not send the child 
to her for a year ? Hardships ! Yes ; that is 
exactly what she wants. I would not put her 
into a family of the very poorest. That would 
be overdoing it. But a plain-living household, 
where they have the genuine peasant fare, that 
is the thing.” 

And so it was settled. Cleonice went for a 
year to her foster-mother’s cottage, and the change 
was as thorough as could be desired, and it had 
all the bracing and restoring effect upon her health 
that the physician had expected. It was then 
that she began to learn all the ins and outs, all 
the highways and byeways of the great wood at the 
edge of which the cottage stood. This knowledge 
she had increased by frequent visits in after years. 
When the summer was at its hottest in Corinth, 
Archias had taken the most commodious cottage 
248 


The Release 


in the village, and it had been the girl’s delight 
to explore the forest recesses. The knowledge 
thus acquired she was now about to put to a use 
which she had certainly never anticipated. 

She and her companions struck into a green 
road which would take them, she knew, by almost 
a straight line to the cottage. The distance was 
traversed without incident. When the party 
was about three hundred yards from its destina- 
tion, she called a halt. There was a shed used 
by wood-cutters for sleep and meals when they 
were busy with their spring or autumn work. 
It was now unoccupied, and here the Corsican 
and Rufus were to wait, and she would join 
them when her errand had been accomplished. 

Manto, the foster-mother, was busy preparing 
her husband’s evening meal, when she was startled 
to see a quite unknown figure standing in the 
doorway of her cottage. For it was not only 
unknown, but of an appearance wholly unfamiliar. 
It was a handsome lad attired in an elegant riding 
costume whom she saw, and for a minute or so 
her powers of recognition absolutely failed her. 
Then her visitor bade her good-evening, and the 
voice — it is curious how we recognize voices, for 
the recognition is an absolutely unaided effort of 
memory — seemed to bring back some recollection. 
The recollection became more vivid when she 
249 


The Release 


heard a pet name which had been frequently on 
the lips of her foster-child in former days, and 
it became absolute recognition when the stranger 
threw his arms round her and kissed her on either 
cheek. 

“ Good Heavens, my darling ! what is the 
meaning of this ? ” she gasped out. “ You are 
not really changed, are you ? ” 

Stories of change from youth to maiden and 
maiden to youth were among the legends told 
in Greek cottages of old days, and Manto had not 
failed to hear them. 

“ Changed ! ” cried Cleonice. “ Certainly not. 
I am still your dear daughter, as you are still my 
dear mother.” 

“ But what does all this mean — this riding 
coat and breeches ? You make a very good look- 
ing young man, I must allow, my dear child ; but 
still I like you better as you really are.” 

“ In a moment, dearest mother,” said Cleonice. 
She was burning with impatience to do her 
errand, but she knew also that the subject must 
not be too abruptly introduced. “ All in good 
time, mother,” she said ; “ but just tell me all 
about yourself and everybody. How is father ? ” 
Father was Manto’s husband, and she was always 
especially pleased when her foster-child called 
him by this name. “ And Theon ? ” Theon, 
250 


The Release 


it should be said, was the foster-brother, who was 
then serving in the body guard of Herod Agrippa. 

Her questions duly answered, she went on 
to give news of Tecmessa, and her baby, the 
finest baby, she said, in Corinth. It was 
not difficult, as may be readily understood, to 
bring in the name of Eubulus. Theon in 
former days had won a boys’ race at the Isthmus 
and another at Nemea, and Manto, besides the 
common interest which all Greeks felt in the 
great national games, was always keen to hear 
about them. Cleonice was strictly guarded in 
her praises of the young man, but she enlarged 
on the incident that had brought them together. 
Manto listened with rapt attention to the story 
of how her darling had been rescued from the 
imminent danger of drowning, grew pale with 
horror at the description, artfully prolonged and 
heightened in fact by the narrator, of the peril — 
“ My clothes had kept me up so far, but I was 
just beginning to sink,” she said — and was ready 
to do anything for the young hero who had come 
to the rescue at exactly the right moment. Now 
was the time, the girl felt, for introducing the 
business on which she had come. “ And now,” 
she went on, “ the robbers have caught him. 
They sent a false message that his father was 
dying and wanted to see him. They have him 

251 


The Release 


somewhere here, and they will not let him go 
till the race is over. It will break his heart to lose 
it — perhaps they will kill him.” 

“ And you have come to rescue him ? Oh, you 
brave child ! ” 

This was quite true, but somehow, stated in 
this abrupt way, it struck the girl with confusion, 
especially when Manto looked at her with a 
penetrating glance. She coloured up to the 
roots of her hair. 

“ My father,” she began — then she remembered 
that her father knew nothing of what she was 
doing. “ Well,” she stammered, “ I could not 
help being interested, and trying to do something. 
All Corinth, you know, is wild about him.” 

“ Yes, dear,” said Manto, “ and you love him,” 
going to the point with the directness of her 
class. 

“ Certainly not,” cried Cleonice with another 
furious blush. “ He hasn’t said a word about 
love to me.” 

“ That’ll come in good time, my dear,” said 
Manto, and she evidently considered the matter 
as good as settled. “ But now what is it that you 
want me to do ? ” 

“ To set him free,” replied the girl. 

Manto’s face fell. That was a very difficult and 
risky business, and she did not see how she was to 
252 


The Release 


set about it. Just at this moment the husband 
returned. He was carrying a basket, and was 
evidently in a great hurry. 

“ Give me a snack just to go on with,” he said 
to his wife. “ I have some business to do at the 
camp, and must do it at once. They” — he did 
not specify any further who was meant by the 
“ they ” — “ have taken some one on the road, and 
I have been getting something for him from the 
inn. He seems to be a person of some importance, 
for he can’t do, it seems, with common fare. I 
have got a roast fowl and a flask of Chian here for 
him, and I must take them to him, for he will be 
wanting his meal.” 

“ Yes, father,” said Manto, “ but here is the 
dear child from Corinth, who wants to speak 
to you.” 

“ The dear child from Corinth,” repeated 
the man in amazement. “ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Surely,” said Cleonice, “ you haven’t for- 
gotten me, though I must allow that I am not 
dressed as usual.” 

There was no time to lose, and the story was 
told again. The shepherd, for this was the man’s 
occupation, was not less taken aback than his 
wife had been. 

“ Set him free ! ” he exclaimed, when he saw 
what he was asked to do. “ Set him free ! 

253 


The Release 


But what are Manto and I to do afterwards, for 
we shall certainly not be able to stay here any 
longer ? ” 

“ I have thought of that, dear father,” said 
Cleonice. “ That can easily be settled, if you 
are willing. My father has a farm about to 
become empty just now on the Sicyon road. He 
will put you into that, and you will be twice as 
comfortable as you are here, and nothing dis- 
agreeable to do.” 

“ Well,” said the shepherd, “ I don’t want 
a reward. I am ready to do anything in my 
power for you, my dear child ; but one has to 
look ahead a bit. But now let us consider what 
is to be done.” 

This was not difficult to see. The prisoner 
was in charge of two of the band. These would 
have to be disposed of in some way, and the 
readiest and safest way was to drug their drink. 
The shepherd, who had served the robbers for some 
years, was implicitly trusted. All his interests were 
supposed to be identical with theirs ; it was the 
accepted rule that he had a share in the ransom 
of a prisoner, and no one so much as imagined 
that he would ever have an interest in setting a 
prisoner free. 

“ By good luck,” he said, “ I bought a couple 
of flasks. It would save me a journey, I thought to 
254 

\ 


The Release 


myself, to get it at once, and now the second 
will come in handy.” 

“ But how about the drug ? ” said Manto. 

“ Oh ! ” replied the shepherd, “ I have some- 
thing here that will do perfectly well. It is 
something that I give the sheep now and then 
when they have the colic. I’ll warrant that it 
does the business, and in pretty quick time, 
too. But now I must be off.” 

Everything went well. Eubulus, who had a 
happy faculty of getting on in every company, 
and making the best of every situation, was 
already on friendly terms with his guards. When 
the shepherd made his appearance with the fowl 
and the flask of Chian, he at once proposed to the 
men that they should pledge him in the wine. 
This he did out of simple bonhomie , but it worked 
into his deliverer’s hands with admirable effect. 

“ Will you have it neat or mixed ? ” asked the 
shepherd. The men would have preferred the 
drink without water ; but prudence prevailed. 

“ Well,” said one of them, “ for my part I 
think that water somewhat spoils the taste. 
But we have to be careful. Supposing that we 
should fall asleep ? There would be a pretty 
to do ? ” 

The shepherd retired to the kitchen of the hut 
to mix the bowl, and had, of course, an admirable 
255 


The Release 


opportunity of putting in the narcotic. When 
he returned with the doctored wine, he was think- 
ing how he could manage to warn the young man 
against the beverage, and was not a little per- 
plexed by the problem to be solved. Eubulus 
relieved him quite unintentionally. “ For my- 
self,” he said, “ I prefer water. I am in training, 
and wine does not suit me.” 

“ The better for us,” whispered one of the 
guards to the other, “ though we must really be 
careful.” 

“ Then, gentlemen,” said the shepherd, “ I 
will wish you good-night. I must be off home, 
where my wife is waiting supper for me.” 

He left the hut, but, of course, only to wait 
outside for so long as might be necessary before 
the drug did its work. It was amusing, or would 
have been amusing, to one not directly interested 
in the matter, to note the working out of the 
plan. The talk of the two men grew louder, 
then there was an attempt at singing, and in a 
few minutes absolute silence. The shepherd 
looked in, and saw that both the men were 
stretched on the floor, snoring loudly enough, 
it might have^been said, to bring the house down. 
On this he slipped in, cut the string by which the 
prisoner’s ankles were tied together, and the rope 
by which he was bound to a staple in the wall, 
256 



Eubulus in the hands of the Brigands 


































































The Release 


and whispered in his ear — he might have shouted 
the words for all power of hearing that was 
left to the guards — “ Come along, sir, now is 
your time,” and he led the way to the cottage. 

Manto meanwhile had been collecting her 
personal belongings. All the furniture of the 
cottage would have to be abandoned. Luckily 
there was very little of this ; the average cottage 
of the Greek labouring man was very scantily 
furnished. But she had a few ornaments, a 
necklace and such like, a band of coins, and some 
other trifles, and a gala dress. These things, 
with Cleonice’s help, she made up into a bundle, 
not without tears, which the girl did her best to 
dispel. 

Everything was ready when the shepherd 
returned. The meal was hastily dispatched, 
neither of the women, however, being disposed 
to share it. In less than half an hour they had 
rejoined the party in the barn. Rufus, who had 
the strongest horse, took up Manto behind him ; 
the Corsican and Cleonice rode on before, and 
the shepherd with Eubulus made his way through 
the wood to the high road on foot. Before dawn 
on the following day they were all safe at Corinth. 


257 


R 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


Under Cover of the Law 

Of the three confederates, two, as has been seen, 
had attempted to “ get at ” the favourite for 
the Long Race, and had failed. The third 
was now to take his turn. His scheme was 
more ambitious than theirs, and as they were 
very soon to find out, far more costly. The 
abortive effort to poison Eubulus had not cost 
much more than the price of the drug, to the 
bandits nothing had been paid. They were 
to be remunerated by the ransom which, as a 
matter of fact, they never got the chance of 
demanding. The scheme now to be tried was 
to bring against the young athlete a charge so 
serious that the authorities would be obliged 
to take action upon it. This charge was the 
taking part in a Secret Society. There was 
nothing against which the Imperial Govern- 
ment was so jealously on its guard, of which it 
was so sensitively suspicious as the Secret 
258 


Under Cover of the Law 


Society . 1 Its chiefs were perfectly well aware 
that under the outward order which their mili- 
tary power and the jealousies of the subject 
races combined to preserve, there was an immense 
mass of discontent, feelings of nationality, and 
recollections of lost freedom, and all the hostili- 
ties with which an Empire founded on conquest 
is regarded. For the Roman Empire was an 
Empire not of colonization but of conquest. 
It had colonies, certainly, but the colonies were 
not what we understand by the word. They 
were military posts set down in the midst of a 
conquered country. The crimes of a Secret 
Society were necessarily shrouded in darkness. So 
far they afforded a pretext for very vague charges. 
On the other hand these were not accusations 
that could be brought by the “man in the street” 
against any one whom he might wish to injure. 
They had to do with high politics, and had to 

1 Example may be found in the correspondence of the 
younger Pliny and the Emperor Trajan. Pliny had been sent 
as a special commissioner to the Province of Bithynia. While 
he was there a terrible fire almost destroyed one of the principal 
cities of the province. Pliny accordingly suggested that to 
guard against such possibilities in the future, a fire brigade 
should be created. The Emperor in his reply put a veto on 
the scheme. It would be a Secret Society, and as such dan- 
gerous. 


259 


Under Cover of the Law 

come with the prestige of an assured position. 
It would not be fitting for a party of betting 
men to come forward with such a charge. They 
must find some grave citizen to be their mouth- 
piece. The rogues were not at a loss. They 
knew one who would serve the purpose admirably. 
He was reputed to be a respectable citizen ; 
he was really an unscrupulous intriguer, who 
made use of a good social position to enrich him- 
self. Such a man’s help was naturally costly. 
No promises would satisfy him. He wanted 
money down, and that to a considerable amount. 
Money down leaves no tell-tale traces behind 
it, and Aristagoras — for this was the well-placed 
scoundrel’s name — was well aware that if no such 
traces existed, his word would hold good against 
any hostile assertions. The confederates had 
ready to hand some prima facie evidence of 
their charge. They watched all the movements 
of Eubulus, and of course knew that he was a 
frequent visitor at the house of Aquila. But 
they found out that there were many visitors 
to the house besides the young athlete, and 
further that the visitors were almost entirely 
Jews. Another discovery was that the visitors 
came at regular times. Then they got a little 
further. A silly young Jew had put himself 
in their power by making wagers that he could 
260 


Under Cover of the Law 


not pay. They induced him to make acquaint- 
ance with one of the visitors. This was easy 
enough, for these visitors had no idea of doing 
anything unlawful, and they were ready to 
believe that what interested them would interest 
others. The report that the young man brought 
back was not a little confused and perplexing. 
But it contained hints, or what might be con- 
strued into hints, sufficient to serve their' purpose. 
He had certainly caught some phrases about a 
new kingdom. These alone would be enough 
to proceed upon. It must not be supposed 
that these meetings at Aquila’s house were 
assemblies of Christians, of people who had a 
definite belief such as we should describe by 
that name. The men who frequented them 
were inquiring Jews. Such there were in every 
Jewish community. It was St. Paul’s practice 
to visit the Synagogue of every city to which 
his travels brought him, and to set forth, as 
long as he was permitted to do so, the principles 
of his faith. Doubtless St. Paul used more defi- 
nite language than Aquila would be able to do ; 
Aquila himself would be far in advance of many 
who were more or less in sympathy with him . 1 

1 As we know, for instance, he was in advance of Apollos 
See Acts xviii. 


26l 


Under Cover of the Law 


But there was movement in the air. It is easy 
to imagine, in view of the grave political trou- 
bles which did actually arise less than twenty 
years after the time of which I am now writing, 
troubles which were already doubtless beginning, 
that the Roman Government was deeply suspi- 
cious of the Jewish communities. 

Aristagoras now felt that he had sufficient 
pretext for action. Accordingly he sought an 
audience of Gallio, the matter being obviously 
for the representative of the Imperial govern- 
ment, rather than for the head of the Corinthian 
municipality. Gallio received him in private, 
with no one present but his secretary, and bade 
him state his case. Aristagoras put it forth 
with no little skill, and certainly did not suffer 
the few facts that he had to lose any of their 
importance. He spoke of meetings of Jews in the 
house of a prominent member of the community, 
and of the frequent attendance of Eubulus, 
known to be regarded with uncommon favour 
by the whole population of Corinth, at the 
house of the same person. This might very 
likely mean a serious damage to the public peace. 

Gallio heard the story with considerable doubt. 
He did not know much about Aristagoras, but 
he had some suspicion of his sincerity. The 
fine instinct of a well-born, well-read man told 
262 


Under Cover of the Law 


him that there was something not quite genuine 
about him. His secretary also, when appealed 
to, had nothing very favourable to say. Aris- 
tagoras was in a good position, he knew, but 
was not in the very best odour. Still the matter 
was not one which Gallio felt himself justified 
in ignoring. He knew that the Home Govern- 
ment regarded such accusations as very impor- 
tant matters. He had his private opinions, 
but it was not for him to act upon them in his 
official capacity. He consented to receive the 
deposition of Aristagoras. This was duly drawn 
up in form by the secretary, and signed by the 
informer. 

But when Aristagoras went a step further, 
and sought to have Eubulus arrested, Gallio met 
the request with a distinct refusal. “ I have 
consented , 55 he said, “to receive your accusation, 
though it is, as you must be aware, very vague. 
Still, it is not for me to ignore an affair which 
may possibly be of more importance than it 
appears to me at present — for so much I do not 
hesitate to say — to possess. But when you ask 
me to arrest the young man, I feel bound to 
say ‘ No . 5 I do not know, sir, whether you, 
occupied, as you doubtless are, with graver 
matters, are aware how the young man is situated. 
Anyhow, I may tell you that he is about to take 
263 


Under Cover of the Law 


part in the Games, and that he is confidently 
expected to win the Long Race. It would 
hardly be fair to make such a victory impossible 
by arresting him. These charges often come 
to nothing, more often than not, as far as I can 
judge by my experience in office. If that should 
happen in this case, I should have inflicted a 
very serious injury on the young man and his 
friends. On the other hand there is no danger 
of the accused escaping. He is a public character. 
He is the object of universal observation, all 
the more so as he has been the object of two 
somewhat singular attacks. No, sir, I decline 
to arrest Eubulus ; when the race is over I will 
make inquiry. Meanwhile, to avoid any chance 
of injury to the common weal I will give such 
instructions as will ensure his being watched. 
He is no more likely to try to leave Corinth than 
I am. Still, I will have him watched.” 

Aristagoras was forced to be content with 
this. As he turned to leave the audience cham- 
ber, Gallio regarded him with a scornful smile. 
“ I strongly suspect, my good man,” he said 
to himself in a low voice, “ that you have a hand 
in these villainous plots.” 


264 


CHAPTER XXIX 


The Games 

The action of Aristagoras, as described in the 
last chapter, was known to but very few, but 
the affair of the bandits was no secret, and the 
failure of the attempt made an immense sensa- 
tion in Corinth. The popularity of the young 
man was worked up into something like frenzy. 
That very dignified person, the Roman Governor, 
condescended to send one of his lictors with a 
message of sympathy and congratulation. A 
great number of the townspeople formed them- 
selves into a Committee of Vigilance. The 
trainer’s house was guarded day and night by 
companies of volunteers, who took their time 
of duty and were relieved in regularly military 
fashion. The place of exercise was similarly 
protected. Eubulus himself, as soon as he showed 
himself outside the trainer’s house, became the 
object of popular demonstrations which were 
265 


The Games 


certainly flattering, but which caused him no 
little annoyance. Happily this state of affairs 
soon came to a natural end. The first day of 
the Games — they lasted five days in all — arrived, 
and it might be assumed that for the present 
at least the machinations of the young man’s 
enemies had failed. 

At an early hour in the morning, which, appro- 
priately enough, was one of brilliant sunshine, 
all Corinth, crowded as it was to its utmost 
capacity of reception, was astir. The spot 
where the Games were celebrated was about 
six miles from the city in a south-easterly direc- 
tion, and about a mile from the sea. The road 
was crowded with pedestrians. Over and above 
the multitude of sight-seers there was a great 
number of itinerant dealers in wine, sweetmeats 
and a variety of other articles suited to the wants 
or caprices of a crowd bent on making holiday. 
Now and then a public conveyance, heavily 
laden with passengers, would come along, or 
the chariot of some wealthy citizen. A little 
later in the day the carriages of the magistrates 
of the city and of the Roman Governor himself 
were to be observed. It may be remarked that 
the crowd consisted entirely of men ; no women 
were allowed to be present at the Games, with 
the single exception of the Priestess of Athene. 

266 


The Games 


Even this exception was maintained only in 
form. The priestess asserted her right by taking 
her seat in the marble chair assigned for her use 
opposite the enclosure occupied by the judges 
of the Games. She was very properly unwilling 
to surrender a privilege which had come down 
to her from an immemorial antiquity. This 
done, she vacated her place, naturally not caring 
to be the sole representative of her sex in a com- 
pany which must have numbered at least a 
hundred thousand. This remark, however, does 
not apply to the fifth day, when there was a 
competition of music and singing. At this 
women were permitted both to compete and 
to assist as spectators, and this, as may be sup- 
posed, was one of the most popular and brilliant 
spectacles of the festival. 

The first day of the Games was spent for 
the most part in ceremonial. The judges 
formally took their seats. It was their business 
to decide any point of difference that might 
arise. They were all Corinthian citizens. The 
right of presiding had belonged to Corinth from 
time immemorial, and was, as may be supposed, 
most jealously guarded. It had passed to Sicyon 
during that dismal century of desolation which 
succeeded the destruction of the city by Mum- 
mius, but it had been given back to the new 
267 


The Games 


foundation of Caesar . 1 The chief of the company 
was, of course, the Archon, who occupied the place 
in right of his official position. In a matter 
which concerned sentiment rather than impor- 
tant interests the Roman Governor discreetly 
gave way to the traditional dignity of his sub- 
ordinate. Then came the solemn reception of 
the envoys sent by the other cities of Greece. 
It was a ceremony sadly shorn of its old splendour, 
for, alas ! some of the cities which had been wont 
in former times to send embassies to the Isthmus 
were by this time little better than heaps of 
ruins. Argos was still able to furnish repre- 
sentatives ; but Sparta, which no longer could 
claim any supremacy over other towns of Laconia, 
had been obliged to abandon the custom. The 
envoys from Athens carried off the palm for 
splendour of equipment, for Athens, long since 
become insignificant as regards political power, 
was still important in the domain of letters and 


1 The destruction of Corinth took place in 146 b.c. Its 
rebuilding by Julius Caesar, who sent thither a colony of veteran 
soldiers and of personal dependents, took place after exactly 
a century. Caesar was assassinated about a year and a half 
later, but the progress of the new city was not hindered by 
the death of its patron. It advanced in wealth and popula- 
tion with wonderful rapidity, and in the course of another 
hundred years was as prosperous and as popular as ever. 

268 


The Games 


learning. Some new visitor might be noticed, 
representing some city which had but recently 
acquired its wealth and was all the more eager 
to assert its connection with the ancient celebra- 
tions of Greece. All the envoys were magnifi- 
cently attired in purple robes richly embroidered 
with gold, and wore jewelled diadems. After 
the reception of the embassies came the custo- 
mary sacrifices, ceremonies which it is not neces- 
sary to describe. Every archaic detail from the 
stone knife downwards was strictly observed, all 
the more strictly the more completely the old 
spirit of reverence and worship had passed away . 1 
The sacrifices finished, came the midday meal, 
an affair which varied from the splendid ban- 
quet served to the judges by the command of 
Gallio to the very simple al fresco meal of the 
poorer spectators, bread and olives or onions, 
with possibly a relish of salt fish. After the 
meal came a review of the candidates. They 
presented themselves to the judges, gave their 
names, parentage and birthplace; no person of 
non-Greek descent was permitted to enter, and 


1 It was customary to begin the slaying of the victims with 
a stone knife, but this, after a merely formal beginning, was 
laid aside for the more convenient steel. The stone had, of 
course, come down from an immemorial antiquity. 

269 


The Games 


some few places were by tradition excluded . 1 
These were solemnly entered in a register by 
the official who acted as secretary to the judges. 
This done, the president of the judges addressed 
an exhortation to the candidates. He warned 
them against all dishonourable practices ; told 
them to look beyond the mere distinction of 
victory, and said some wise words of advice, 
calculated to temper undue exultation in the 
successful, and unreasonable depression in those 
who might fail. This address finished, the 
spectators were warned, under the threat of 
severe punishment, not to interfere in any way 
with the competitors. They were reminded 
that the one thing all ought to desire and strive 
for was the welfare and glory of the Hellas that 
was the mother of them all ; that every Greek 
ought always — and especially on these occasions, 
which were, as they had been from time immemo- 
rial, the great festivals of the race — to forget his 
own tribe, his own city, to desire the victory of 
the best man, the swiftest, strongest, most agile, 
most ready of wit and nimble of limb, whether 

1 So it was against custom, if not against actual law, for any 
native of the region of Elis, excepting only the town of 
Lichaeum, to enter for an Isthmian contest. This doubtless 
had its origin in the fact that Elis had the right of managing the 
Games of Olympia, the great rival of the Isthmian celebration. 

270 


The Games 


he were Ionian or Dorian, Athenian or Spartan, 
Greek of the mainland or of the Peloponnese, 
of the Islands, or the far-off Colonies of East or 
West. 

This brought the regular proceedings of the 
day to a close. The vast meeting then resolved 
itself into a great social gathering. At the same 
time business was not forgotten. The Greek, 
with all his sentiment, had always a keen eye 
to the main chance. These occasions were 
convenient for the meeting of those who had 
transactions to conclude or schemes to talk over, 
and a detached observer, had he passed from 
group to group, might have heard the most 
multifarious variety of affairs discussed. The 
great Isthmian assembly rivalled, or even sur- 
passed in this respect, even its great Olympian 
rival. It had, it is true, no such splendid associa- 
tions as had the little town on the coast of Elis, 
but it was far more conveniently situated for 
the commerce of the world. 

The second day was given to the boys’ com- 
petitions. The lads ran and wrestled and 
boxed, to the intense interest of their fathers 
and other kindred. This part of the festival 
was, in one sense, the most satisfactory. Both 
the competitors and their friends took a frank 
and simple interest in the struggle, and there 
271 


The Games 

was very little of the noxious element of 
betting. 

On the third day began the competitions o^ 
the men, and the first of these to be taken were 
the foot races. The reason for this is obvious. 
A foot race did not interfere with any other 
competitions, but it might itself be interfered 
with by others. A wrestler might wrench an 
ankle ; a boxer might receive some blow that 
would seriously damage his chances as a runner. 

The short race 1 was the first run. Here the 
distance was two hundred yards or thereabouts. 
Eubulus had at one time intended to compete, 
and would in all probability have won it, for 
he was known to have for a short distance an 
unrivalled speed. But his trainer had persuaded 
him to stand out. The two adverse experiences 
through which he had passed had not, to all 
appearance, left any traces behind. Still it was 
possible that they had told upon him in some 
way which would show itself only when the 
reserve of strength was called upon. There was 
a certain disappointment in the crowd of spec- 
tators when his well-known figure was missed 
in the line of starters, but it was generally recog- 
nized that his action in reserving all his energies 


Called the Stadium. 

272 


The Games 


for the great effort of the long race was judicious . 1 

When that important event came on, it was 
seen that the reputation of Eubulus had had the 
effect of diminishing the number of competitors. 
We have seen how Dromeus disappeared ; others 
retired for the more creditable reason that they 
were manifestly outpaced by the young Corin- 
thian, that it was only by the merest accident 
they could hope to beat him, and that such an 
accident was not worth waiting for. The 
consequence was that the starters were not 
numerous enough to make it necessary to have 
more heats than one. 

An admirable start was effected, Eubulus 
being, if anything, a little later than his com- 
petitors in springing from the line. This he 
did by the trainer’s instruction. With a well- 
grounded confidence in his favourite pupil’s 
superiority to his rivals, the man had said, “ Don’t 

1 We call it “ the long race,” but it does not seem long as 
judged by the practice of modern pedestrianism. It is true 
that there are different opinions about the distance traversed, 
but the commonly accepted notion is that this distance was 
seven stadia, equal to 1,358 yards, not quite four-fifths of a 
mile. A present-day runner would look upon this distance 
as neither one thing nor the other. In the representations of 
long-race runners which have come down to us the attitude 
with the arms pressed close to the sides is that which pedestrians 
running a long distance would assume. 

273 


S 


The Games 


give them a chance to complain ; you will soon 
have it all your own way.” And have it his 
own way he certainly did. The race, in fact, 
was a surprise’ to his most confident backers, and 
nearly went to the extent of revolutionising the 
pedestrian art in Corinth. Eubulus “ sprinted,” 
to use the technical term of foot-racing, from 
the beginning. To the astonishment and even 
dismay of his friends he started at full speed, and 
to the astonishment of his enemies he kept up 
this speed with but the slightest slackening, if 
any, to the end. Whether any demonstration 
of the adverse party had been intended can 
never be known. This amazing performance 
took the whole assembly by storm. There was 
a dead silence as he shot in front of the rank of 
runners, took at once a manifest lead, and in- 
creased it every second. “ Making the pace ” 
was a dodge known on the stadia of antiquity 
as it is on the modern running path, but this 
competitors plodding on in the stolid way which 
was no dodge. It was ludicrous to see the other 
was a second nature to them, while this latter- 
day Achilles sprang lightly forward. One could 
hardly think that they and he were engaged in 
the same contest. Of the issue, there could, of 
course, be no doubt. Sheer astonishment kept 
the assembly silent till the end was reached; but 
274 



The Long Foot Race. 






























































The Games 


when Eubulus came in at least a hundred yards 
ahead — he accomplished the distance, it may be 
said, in 3 min. 36 sec. — there went up such a shout 
as had never before been heard on the Isthmus. 

The rest of the contests that took place that 
day need not be described. The wrestlers, the 
boxers, the competitors in that most arduous 
of all the competitions, the Pancratium, received 
perhaps less attention than usual. The victory 
of Eubulus had taken off the edge, so to speak, of 
the popular interest. Still there was a sufficiency 
of applause, and the meeting, as a whole, might 
be safely pronounced to be a success. But the 
great sensation of the day was yet to come. 
When at the close of the competitions a herald 
proclaimed the names of the successful compe- 
titors, and announced as “ Victor in the Long 
Race, Eubulus, son of Eumenes,” and one of the 
spectators stepped forth from the crowd that 
stood round, and said, “ I object to Eubulus, 
reputed son of Eumenes,” with an emphasis on 
the word “ reputed,” there ensued, as may be 
easily supposed, a prodigious tumult. 


275 


CHAPTER XXX 


The Casket 

The judges at once adjourned the inquiry to the 
private room provided for them in one of the 
buildings that adjoined the course, and began 
by calling on the objector for a prima facie 
justification of the course which he had taken. 
By common repute, they said, Eubulus is the 
son of Eumenes, for many years a well known 
and generally respected inhabitant of Corinth. 
His name is so entered in more than one public 
document. He contended in this name, and 
was so described in a boys’ competition, and 
no objection was taken. The objector answered 
this appeal in what seemed to be a perfectly 
straightforward fashion. He had first hand evi- 
dence, he said, of the truth of what he alleged, 
and this he was ready to produce on the spot. 
If the judges would wait for something less than 
a single “ water,” 1 he would bring the witness 

1 The term occupied by the water running through a meas- 
uring glass. So many glasses were allowed to a speaker in the 
courts of justice, and the time may be taken as roughly equa 
to half an hour or something less. 

276 


The Casket 


before them. The witness was a woman, and 
he had not been able to bring her within the 
sacred precincts as long as the Games were actu- 
ally in progress. The brief adjournment was, 
of course, granted. The time had barely expired 
when the objector reappeared, bringing with 
him a middle-aged woman of respectable appear- 
ance, and, indeed, well known in the city by 
name and repute. She followed the occupation 
of a sick nurse, and was well thought of for skill 
and, what was perhaps less common in those 
days, not to speak of later times, for honesty. 
Her testimony was perfectly clear and to the 
point. Something more than twenty-one years 
before she had been summoned to attend what 
had been described to her as a case of serious 
illness. The messenger who brought the sum- 
mons had taken her to a house in Corinth which 
she knew as one let from time to time to tem- 
porary residents in the city. It was large and 
well furnished, and the rent demanded for the 
use of it amounted, she knew, to a considerable 
sum of money. The patient had expired before 
she reached the place, apparently in consequence 
of the rupture of a blood vessel. She was a 
young and beautiful woman. All the belong- 
ings of the bedchamber betokened refinement 
and wealth. On the fingers of the deceased 
277 


The Casket 


were several richly jewelled rings. By the side 
of the bed sat a man of middle age, considerably 
older, she thought, than the dead woman. He 
seemed to be stupefied with grief, and took no 
notice of her presence. After a while, however, 
he seemed to rouse himself, and struck a hand- 
bell which stood on a table by his side. A young 
man dressed as a slave appeared in answer to 
the summons. A conversation carried on in 
a low voice followed. When this was concluded, 
the master left the room and the young slave 
then delivered the message, with which, as it 
seemed, he had been entrusted. The purport 
of it was this. Would the nurse wait for some 
time, possibly three or four hours, till he had 
made his arrangements ? A change had been made 
necessary on the sudden death of his wife. She 
would be fully recompensed for any trouble 
that she might have to take or any inconvenience 
to which she might be subjected. He was 
instructed meanwhile to offer her anything in 
the way of food or drink that she might want. 
He was also to introduce her to a child for whom 
her good offices would be asked, but in what 
way and to what extent it was not at present 
in his power to say. The slave then conducted 
her to an adjoining chamber, also richly furnished, 
where there was a boy child, apparently three 
278 


The Casket 


or four months old, asleep in a cradle, in the 
charge, as it seemed, of an elderly woman. After 
the lapse of about four hours, the young slave 
reappeared and conducted her back to the cham- 
ber to which she had been first brought. The 
dead body had been removed, and the husband, 
as she supposed him to be, was collected and 
calm. He asked her whether she knew Eumenes 
of Sicyon, putting the question, for so it struck 
her, as if he were quite confident of receiving 
an answer in the affirmative. As a matter of 
fact she did know him well. He then went on, 
“ I wish you to take the child whom you have 
seen in the next room to Eumenes and his wife ; 
he is, I know, recently married. Hand them 
this casket, this letter and this bag of gold. 
Here are ten gold pieces for your own trouble. 
I have set free those two slaves — they are mother 
and son — giving them enough to keep them from 
want for the future. For myself I shall wait 
here till you return with an acknowledgment from 
Eumenes and his wife that they have accepted the 
charge which I have asked them to undertake.” 

The woman concluded her story thus, 

“ I took the casket with the letter and 
the money, the child being carried for me by 
the woman whom I have mentioned. Before 
long I brought back the acknowledgment de- 
279 


The Casket 


sired. The stranger received it from me in 
silence, and I saw him no more. The next day 
I heard that a man had been found dead, appar- 
ently from the effects of poison, in the house 
before mentioned.” 

“ Is this,” asked the Archon, “ the first time 
you have told this story ? ” 

The woman looked distressed. “ Yes,” she 
said, “ it is, except that I told my husband at 
the time what had taken place. He has been 
dead about two years. He was a very good 
husband to me, but a little wine got into his 
head, and at such times he let his tongue run 
away with him.” 

The Archon was extra- judicially acquainted 
with the fact that Eumenes had left Corinth, 
and that he had transferred the guardianship 
of his son to Aquila and Priscilla, and he sug- 
gested that the Jew should be sent for, and invited 
to communicate to the judges any information 
that he might happen to possess. But it was 
not necessary to send for him ; he was already 
in waiting, for intelligence of the objection 
having been lodged had reached him, and he 
felt sure that the time was come for opening 
the casket. This he had accordingly brought 
with him, and he had also taken care to have 
the letter which he had received with it from 
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The Casket 


Eumenes ready for inspection. No little sensa- 
tion was produced when he answered to hi s 
name, and intimated to the judges that he was 
possessed of documents the contents of which, 
though wholly unknown to him in detail, would, 
he felt confident, clear up the mystery that 
surrounded the birth of Eubulus. The question 
arose whether the court of judges, constituted 
as it was, and open to the public, was a proper 
tribunal for an investigation which might be 
of a delicate kind. Finally it was agreed that 
a committee of two should be asked to examine 
the documents in the first instance. The Archon 
was naturally one of the two, and the senior 
judge was the other ; they were to invite Gallio 
the Proconsul to act as their president. Gallio, 
who was on the spot, at once consented, and 
the inquiry was commenced without further 
delay. 

The president of the committee opened the casket 
in the presence of his colleagues, and took out 
its contents. These were a paper closely written 
on both sides and a small leather bag, containing 
some twelve jewels of great size and evidently 
of great value. The writing was a singularly 
beautiful script, which did not require more 
than a few minutes to read. When the Proconsul 
had mastered its contents, he handed it to the 
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The Casket 


Archon, and the Archon, having perused it, 
passed it to his colleague. It ran thus — 

“ I who write these words am by name Alex- 
ander, son of Philip, and by family of the royal 
house, or I should rather say of what was the 
royal house, of Macedonia, being sixteenth in 
descent from that Alexander who befriended 
the Greeks in the days of Xerxes. My genealogy, 
with such proofs as may be wanted to support 
it, is laid up in the municipal archives of the city 
of Pella. I will not describe the various perplexi- 
ties and troubles which this descent has brought 
upon me. The heirs of royal houses which 
Rome has brought to the ground — and of such 
there are many — the representatives of parties 
which have failed to acquire or to retain power ; 
the members of families which have not succeeded 
in their ambitions — all these have sought in me 
a possible ally or confederate. I will not men- 
tion the names of any, lest haply I should do any 
an injury. Let it therefore suffice to say that 
I had made a resolve in my mind that I would 
be the last of my race. But who is master of 
himself or of his own fate? No one certainly — 
least of all when Aphrodite takes to herself the 
spindle of Clotho and weaves the web of his fate. 
I loved a woman more good and more beautiful 
than words can say. My love woke in me the 
282 


The Casket 


hope that I might yet cheat my fate. I would 
retire to some place where the gods of the country, 
Pan and Silvanus and the Dryad Sisterhood, 
extend a benignant patronage to the tillers of 
the soil. For awhile all things went well with 
us ; a son was born to us, and I thought to 
myself, 4 I have provided him a peaceful inheri- 
tance which the malignant desires and ambitions 
of cities should not mar ; it will be enough for 
him if he gathers the fruits of the harvest which 
I plant.’ Alas ! I had not reckoned with the 
envy of fate. My wife sickened of some dread 
disease ; I took her to Corinth in hope that one 
of the physicians of that city might heal her. 
She died. More I cannot say, for I am writing 
this while her body is being prepared for the 
funeral fires. Then I came to this resolve. I 
will hand over my son to the care of some vir- 
tuous couple of the burgher class. They shall 
bring him up to their own condition of life, to 
the occupation, humble but useful, which they 
themselves follow. I hope that thus he will 
escape the fate which has haunted me. Never- 
theless, remembering that from fate no 
man can escape, I have provided against the 
chance that my plans may be defeated. I can 
see that it may become necessary to reveal 
that which I desire to hide, that circumstances 
283 


The Casket 


may require that my son shall cease to be a 
mechanic and be shown to be a descendant of 
kings. I therefore deposit in this casket the 
secret of his race.” 

A pause of some duration followed the reading 
of this document. Gallio broke it by announcing 
a decision which his colleagues promptly recog- 
nized as indicating the only course which under 
the circumstances could be followed. He said : 
“ We will dismiss the objection to the Greek 
descent of Eubulus, and will announce that it 
has been proved to our entire satisfaction that 
in this respect the competitor is fully qualified 
as victorious in the Long Race to receive the 
Crown of Pine, and we will add, if it pleases you, 
some special distinction on account of the un- 
precedented character of his victory. But the 
strange revelation of the young man’s parentage 
makes it necessary to act with the utmost pru- 
dence in dealing with the charge which has been 
brought against him. It is manifest, indeed, to 
us that he is wholly free from any guilty know- 
ledge of plans adverse to the public welfare. 
Yet they who govern this Empire are bound to 
be on their guard against all possible danger, 
and they rightly expect caution and discretion 
from those to whom they delegate their power. 
I dare not release on my own responsibility one 
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The Casket 


who may by some possibility, however remote, 
become dangerous to the peace of the world, 
Eubulus must go to Rome and must answer for 
himself before Caesar. I am sure that he will 
suffer no harm from the magnanimous Claudius, 
secure as he is in his own virtues and in the favour 
of the gods. He shall go, not as a criminal, 
but as one to whom, both for his own sake, and 
for the sake of those who have gone before him, 
Rome will gladly do honour. I will take care 
that the dispatch which accompanies or precedes 
him shall do justice to him in every way.” 


285 


CHAPTER XXXI 

Rewards and Punishments 

The decision of the committee of the judges 
was announced by the Archon on the morning 
of the fourth day. It was usual at the Games, 
as it is usual in similar celebrations in this country 
to reward the winners at the close of the festival ; 
but in this case the Presidents determined, and 
for what seemed to them quite sufficient reason, 
to make an exception in favour of Eubulus. 
The pine-crown was to be put on his head just 
before the beginning of the contests of the day. 
The Archon, accordingly, stepped forward to the 
front of the official “box,” if the term may be per- 
mitted, occupied by the judges, and spoke as 
follows : 

“ We have examined the objection made to 
the parentage of Eubulus, first runner in the 
Long Race, have taken evidence, and have come 
to the conclusion that he was qualified to com- 
pete. Indeed, we may say that there is no one 
in the whole of Hellas, who, so far as ancestry 
is concerned, is more fit to win and wear the 
286 


Rewards and Punishments 

honours of the fleet of foot. More I will not 
say at present. You will soon know what I 
mean. That he is not a Corinthian born we 
regret, but we must not grudge him a dis- 
tinction of race which even Corinth cannot 
match. That he is a Corinthian by adoption 
we gladly remember ; the city will not fail to 
reckon this among its glories. But we 
must not forget that he has not found 
among us all that he might have looked for. 
Loyal friends he has had, and such popular 
favour as has seldom been surpassed,’’ — here 
there went up from the crowd a great shout of 
applause — “ but, unless report has been strangely 
false, he has had bitter enemies, has been the 
object of violence, conspiracy, and malignant 
accusation. Young man,” went on the magistrate, 
turning to Eubulus, “ you have escaped these 
dangers ; you have baffled these enemies. Much, 
I doubt not, you owe to your own virtues ; you 
owe more, I am sure, to the favour of the gods, 
which, indeed, is not given save to those who are 
worthy of it in body, soul, and spirit. That you 
have surpassed all who have preceded you in this 
place I will not say ; the heroes, the children of the 
gods, have deigned to wear the crown which 
you have won. But this I will say, you have 
achieved a singular victory under singular diffi- 
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Rewards and Punishments 


culties, and we mark our sense of an uncommon 
virtue by an uncommon honour. Be worthy 
of it to the end ; be as patient, as brave as you 
have shown yourself hitherto, and do not doubt — 
for it is not the gods that change, but men that 
are not equal to themselves — that you will be a s 
fortunate.” 

Shouts of deafening applause rose again and 
again from the crowd as Eubulus stepped for- 
ward and received from the hands of the Archon 
first the palm branch and then the Crown of Pine. 

The unprecedented departure from the order 
of proceedings described above brought well- 
merited disaster to Cleon and his associates. If 
they had been wise they would by this time have 
left Corinth far behind them. But this was 
practically impossible. They had not the means 
to do so, for they were almost penniless. The 
bribe to Aristagoras had swept away all that 
was left to them, and if they were to get away 
it would have to be either by begging or by 
working — alternatives which were equally un- 
welcome. The visit to the racecourse was, 
therefore, something like a necessity. They hoped 
to pick up a few trifles here and there. They 
had, as may be supposed, at command as many 
ways of accomplishing this as had any rogues in 
the world. Cards, it is true, had not been in- 
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Rewards and Punishments 


vented, but there were dice, 1 the die proper and 
the knuckle-bone, and dice could be loaded. 
But it is needless, even if it were possible, 
to recapitulate the devices of an old-world 
swindler. The evil ingenuity of mankind has 
doubtless added to their number, but there were 
plenty available to a knave even in the year 50 a. d. 
But their chief hope was in getting in advance 
some of the money due to them for bets 
which they had won, by offering to take a com- 
position. None was actually payable till after the 
crowning of the successful candidate on the 
conclusion of the Games. This made it safe 
for them to appear, and it also gave them a chance 
of getting a few pounds into their possession. 
They would say to a debtor, “ If you can pay up 
now we will take two-thirds or three-fourths of 
the money,” giving such reasons as might be suited 
to the silliness or credulity of their victims. It 
was not a very promising device, but it was better 
than nothing, and every shilling they contrived 
to lay hold of in this and in any other way would 
be so much gain. They had come with the rest 
of the crowd to hear the decision of the judges, 
and they saw, of course, that the immediate 
coronation of Eubulus was a fatal blow. They 
turned to fly — flight with or without means was 
1 The tessera with six sides and the talus with four. 

289 T 


Rewards and Punishments 


now a necessity — but it was too late. The 
Corsican, with Rufus, still his constant associate, 
had dogged their steps, and stood between them 
and escape. 

“ Not so fast, my fine fellows,” he cried ; 
“ there are a good many friends here who would 
like to have a word with you before you go.” 

Retribution was at hand for the scoundrels, and 
was likely to be as complete as the sternest lover 
of justice could desire. The “ welsher ” — it may 
be explained that the word means a low-class 
better who cannot pay his bets — was wont to 
meet with as little mercy on the racecourse 
of antiquity as he meets with at Epsom or Don- 
caster. And the three were more than “ welsh- 
ers.” Their misdeeds were not fully known 
to the crowd that rapidly gathered round the 
Corsican and his captives, but some were sure 
and many more suspected that they had practised 
against the life of Eubulus, the most popular 
candidate that Corinth had known within the 
memory of man. And here they were. What 
was to be done with them ? 

The Corsican apprehended the situation in 
a moment. Leave these fellows to the 
vengeance of the mob, and by the time 
one had counted a hundred, there would 
not be one of them left alive. This was 
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Rewards and Punishments 

not a result which he desired. He had not a 
grain of compassion for the villains ; whatever 
they might suffer would be less than their deserts . 
But still it would be better that they should 
not be killed. Death, even the death of such 
worthless creatures as these, would cast a gloomy 
shadow over what was a day of triumph and joy. 
He saw his way in a moment. “ Let them run 
the gauntlet ! ” he cried, and the suggestion 
was taken up with a tumult of applause, and 
so the stadium was put to a use for which it 
certainly was not intended. The three rogues, 
stationed some ten yards apart — by a rude justice 
the eldest, as presumably the least active, had 
the least distance to run — were started, and had 
to make their way as best they could along 
the line of spectators. No one had any deadly 
weapon wherewith to strike the runners — it 
was forbidden to carry weapons within the pre- 
cincts of the Games — but there were belts and 
other implements handy, and in default of 
anything better a sandal or a shoe. It is probable 
that even from this ordeal not one of the three 
would have escaped alive but for an interruption 
to the sport which the Corsican had foreseen. 
The keepers of the course were scandalized at 
the base use to which it was being put, and, as soon 
as they had recovered from their astonishment, 
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Rewards and Punishments 


interfered and put an end to it. It was about 
time. Cleon and Ariston lay bleeding and 
senseless on the ground ; Democles was stagger- 
ing on alone. The keepers carried them off the 
ground and put them in safety in one of the 
buildings that adjoined the course. It is needless 
to pursue their story any further. A few days 
later, when they had recovered sufficiently to 
be able to walk, they were conducted to the 
frontier of the State, and summarily ordered 
to depart. They were given to understand that if 
they were seen again in Corinth they would be 
less leniently treated. 


292 


CHAPTER XXXII 
Back to Rome 

While the enemies of Eubulus were thus receiv- 
ing their due, his friends found themselves in 
no small perplexity. After giving his evidence, 
Aquila had hurried home with all possible speed. 
The matter had to be talked over with Priscilla, 
and that without any loss of time. There was 
very little difference of opinion between the 
two as to what was to be done, though Priscilla, 
with her more impetuous nature, was the first 
to put into definite shape what was really their 
common judgment. “ The boy,” she cried — 
a woman always thus reduces the age of any one 
whom she cares about — “ the boy cannot pos- 
sibly be allowed to go alone.” 

“ You are right,” answered Aquila, “ he cannot 
go alone. And I see no alternative but that 
we must go with him. But it is a terrible risk. 
The decree of banishment is barely two months 
old, and we are going to break it openly.” 

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Back to Rome 


“ Not we,” said Priscilla. “ I have not been 
banished. Why should not I go and leave you 
safely here ? ” 

“ That is impossible,” replied Aquila. “ Not 
that you would not manage everything as well 
as I could ; but things being as they are, it is 
impossible.” 

Priscilla reluctantly acknowledged that it was 
“ We will disguise ourselves,” she said ; “ that 
ought not to be very difficult.” 

Aquila smiled. “ Not for me, perhaps. But 
how about you ? You are not one to be hid in 
a crowd. Still, whatever the risk, you are right ; 
we must go.” 

Nothing could be done that evening, but 
early the next morning Aquila was at the har- 
bour of Cenchreae. He had business which could 
not be postponed to transact there, and he 
might find, he thought, some ship bound for 
Italy. Two days of the Games yet remained, 
and it might be a good thing to be early in the 
field. The Games ended, Corinth would be 
emptying as rapidly as it had filled. 

While he was looking about him he observed 
a small sailing vessel rowed with sweeps up to 
the quay side. It was made fast to the quay, 
from which a gangway was pushed out, and 
some five or six passengers landed. Two sailors 
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carried after them a few articles of luggage. One 
of the passengers was obviously a person of some 
importance, at least in the eyes of his fellow- 
travellers. One of these supported his steps 
as he passed along the gangway, and another 
looked out for a seat on the quay where he might 
be sheltered from the sun. There was no sort 
of distinction about his general appearance, 
which was indeed insignificant. He was short 
of stature, and stooped, but his countenance was 
of an aspect so remarkable that no one who saw 
it could ever forget. The eyes, though to an 
expert’s look they betrayed the signs of ophthal- 
mia, were singularly brilliant and penetrating, 
and the whole expression was full of energy. 
While Aquila was considering who this stranger 
might be, he was accosted by one of the new- 
comers, and recognized his friend Trophimus. 

“ I think you will be able to help us,” the man 
said ; “ our fellow-traveller whom you see is 
Paul of Tarsus. We had heard at Philippi, 
which we left about seven days ago, that you 
were living in Corinth, and we thought you 
might be able to give the master a home.” 

“ By all means,” cried Aquila. “ Will you 
introduce me to him ? ” 

“ Well,” replied Trophimus, “ this will require 
a little management. He makes a great point 
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of earning his own livelihood, and especially in 
a commercial place like this, where he thinks 
the man who shows himself careless of gain is 
likely by the force of contrast to be appreciated. 
So, if you please, we will find a shelter for him 
for a day or two, and then bring in the subject 
of your occupation. He is a worker like you in 
Cilician cloth, and it would please him greatly 
to think that he will be earning, by his own 
special handiwork, his own living.” 

With this Aquila had, of course, to be content. 
The prospect of entertaining such a man was 
most attractive, and he did not realize for a 
while that it would interfere with the proposed 
journey to Rome. But when on reaching home, 
he put the whole matter to Priscilla, the truth 
became at once evident to both of them. The 
idea of accompanying Eubulus to Rome would 
have to be given up ; it would be indeed no 
pleasure journey, but still it had its attraction, 
even in the danger which they would both incur 
for the sake of one whom they loved. On the other 
hand, the opportunity of finding a home for 
the great Apostle of the new faith was a manifest 
call of duty, and must have precedence over every- 
thing else. 

They had come, not, as may be supposed, with- 
out great reluctance, to this conclusion- — Eubulus 
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was very near to the hearts of both of them — 
when Manasseh was announced. 

“ You must not think that I am ungrateful,” 
said the old man, “ because I have not come 
sooner to express my thanks. Be sure that I 
shall never forget your kindness, and that if I 
have the chance I will show my sense of it. And 
that, indeed, is the reason of my coming to-day. 
What I have heard makes me think that this may 
be an opportunity for something more than 
words. I have heard that Eubulus is to go to 
Rome, and I know that he is like a son to you. 
What are you thinking of doing ? ” 

Aquila explained to the old man how they 
were situated. 

“ So,” he exclaimed, after a pause in which 
he seemed to be meditating the state of affairs, 
“ so Paul of Tarsus is here. Well, you will not 
expect me to think about him as you do. I 
know that wherever I go he is spoken against. 
He seems to me to be one of the men who turn 
the world upside down. Perhaps it is good for 
the world to be so turned ; but old men 
of my way of thinking cannot be easily brought 
to believe it. And you are going to make a home 
for him here in Corinth. That is a duty of 
which I cannot relieve you. I am afraid that he 
and I should hardly agree. But there is some- 
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thing that I can do for you, and that is looking 
after the interests of this young man at Rome.” 

“ But the risk ? ” said Aquila. 

“ You thought nothing of the risk,” answered 
Manasseh, “ and I am an old man for whom 
there can be left but a small span of days, and 
you are a young one with life before you. Never 
mind about the risk. And I feel pretty sure 
that the worst of the feeling against us is over. 
It was always something of a plot rather than a 
real movement, and they are beginning to feel 
that things don’t go very smoothly without us. 
In any case there would be far less risk for me 
than there would be for you.” 

“ But your health ? ” said Priscilla. “ Are 
you equal to the fatigues of the journey ? ” 

“ Perfectly so,” replied Manasseh, “ thanks 
in the first place to you, dear lady. Yes ; there 
is nothing on that score to give you any hesita- 
tion. So you can stop here and take care of 
your master, as you call him. He may be all 
you think him. I, as you may guess, have had 
my thoughts fixed upon other things. Perhaps 
it would have been better if they had not, but 
I am too old to change.” 

“ Dear sir ” began Priscilla. 

But Manasseh held up his hand. “ You must 
let me go my own way.” 

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Back to Rome 


And so it was settled. Manasseh, accom- 
panied by Raphael and Eleazar, who would, 
however, leave him before he reached his journey’s 
end, was to go to Rome, timing his arrival some 
day or two before that of Eubulus, who would 
travel slowly as became a State prisoner. This 
would give him a chance of making arrangements 
in advance, and favourably prepossessing, in one or 
more of the many ways of which he was master, 
those who would have to judge the young man’s 
case. 

And to Rome accordingly he went. Things 
there did not go quite as smoothly as he had 
hoped, and the difficulties arose in a quarter 
which the influences which he wielded could 
not reach. Claudius himself seemed obstinately 
hostile to the young man whom Manasseh 
was doing his best to protect. The Emperor, 
dimly conscious that he was unequal to the 
position which he held, that his was an undignified 
personality to represent the State that ruled the 
world, was furiously jealous of possible rivals. 
He had but lately ordered to execution the last 
representative of the house of Pompey, a young 
man, whose only fault was that he had inherited 
in too large a degree the personal fascinations 
of his great ancestor. In such a case he was not 
amenable to the influences which were commonly 
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all powerful with him.' He estimated his freed- 
men at what was their true value, men of a certain 
aptitude for affairs, but wholly incapable of 
appreciating the great interests of the Empire. 
The persuasions of his wife availed nothing. He 
knew that she was not unused to conspiracy, 
and she might be conspiring against him. 

Manasseh was almost paralysed with dismay 
when he found that the influences on which he 
had hitherto relied for the accomplishment of 
his object, and never relied in vain, were failing. 
“ All things at Rome are for sale ” was a maxim 
which had ever been in his mouth, and which he 
had made the guiding principle of his dealings with 
the outer world. Deep in his heart were things 
which he prized above all his wealth. His pride 
of race, his obedience to the law which separated 
his nation from the world, his personal integrity 
were things which no conceivable bribe could 
have induced him to palter with for a moment. 
Still, as far as regarded the practical conduct of 
life, he believed in the omnipotence of wealth. 
And now his idol — he felt in his heart that the 
thing was an idol — failed him. And what had 
overthrown it ? the will of a dotard ! He began 
to reconsider his scheme of life, to feel himself 
less self-sufficient, to recognize the potency of 
what he had been always ready to despise. Ever 
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practical, he turned his thoughts to the question 
— who will prevail where I have failed ? The 
name of Priscilla occurred to him. “ She must 
come,” he said to himself, “ if the boy is ‘ to be 
saved. They will listen to her when they shut 
their ears to me.” And not a moment was to be 
lost. In an hour or so the speediest messenger 
that could be found in Rome was ready to start 
with an urgent message that should bring a more 
powerful advocate on the scene. Yet, after 
all the man had no occasion to start. 

Eubulus had been as much impressed with the 
seriousness of the situation as was his veteran com- 
panion, but in a very different way. The revela- 
tion of the casket had greatly impressed him. 
He had been simply an athlete, with something 
indeed of the old simplicity and honesty which 
had almost disappeared from a degenerate age, 
but with a necessarily narrow view of life. Then 
he had learnt the secret of his descent. It roused 
in him no secular ambitions. He was far too 
sensible and too conscientious to become a pre- 
tender. Yet he felt that it was not for nothing 
that he could claim a share in the glories of 
Achilles and Alexander. There was no vanity 
or self-seeking in these new emotions. It was the 
working of the old motive of noblesse oblige in 
a nature singularly pure and unselfish. And then 
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Back to Rome 


in the tedious solitude to which he was consigned 
— he was in the custody of an opportunist senator, 
who left him severely alone when he knew that 
the Emperor was hostile — other thoughts, linked 
somehow with those which I have described, 
began to visit him. Face to face with death, 
he began to recall some of the teaching which he 
had received from Aquila and Priscilla. They 
had spoken of a kingdom which was not of 
the earth, to which all earthly powers were sub- 
ject. They had said that he could claim citizen- 
ship in that, that this was superior to all the 
changes and chances of mortal life. Everything 
was very dim and vague, yet hour by hour and 
day by day this faith gathered strength. He 
had begun with the thought of appealing from 
the tyranny of the present to the glories of the 
past ; a Claudius, he had thought to himself, 
cannot harm the descendant of Achilles. Then 
there grew up into strength the thought of 
allegiance to a higher potentate. Loyal to Him 
he need not fear even the Master of the World. 

But the prospect was at its gloomiest when 
an unexpected interference changed the situa- 
tion. The young Nero, a boy scarcely thirteen, 
but beyond his age in an intelligent knowledge 
of affairs, heard, almost by accident, the story 
of Eubulus. The young man’s adventures, the 
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Back to Rome 


dangers lie had encountered and escaped, and 
the victory achieved in spite of so many enemies, 
interested him as they would have interested 
any boy of intelligence. But when he heard 
of the secret of his birth, when he was 
told that the young man was the descendant of 
Achilles and a kinsman of Alexander, all the 
romance in him was moved. The generous 
instincts, which in after years the corrupting 
influences of power so sadly overlaid, were roused 
to activity. This young man was the very 
ideal of which he had dreamed — the descendant 
of heroes, himself a hero ! He flew to his step- 
father, the Emperor, and overwhelmed him with 
entreaties and reproaches. How could he think 
of harming so noble a being ? It would be sheer 
profanity, he cried, to shed blood so sacred ! 
And how splendid the revenge if a descendant 
of Aeneas were to extend mercy and protection 
to the descendant of Achilles ! That would be 
indeed to add a crowning glory to the triumphs 
of the Second Troy. 

Claudius could not resist these appeals. It 
would have been hard to refuse anything to the 
brilliant lad whom he had already put over the 
ead of his own somewhat stolid son, Britannicus. 
And the sentiment of the ancestral glories of his 
house touched him at a tender point. And after 
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all, when he came to reflect on it, the sympathy 
which the world might feel for the descendant 
of Achilles could not be other than remote, 
whereas a Pompey might have a real party 
behind him. Eubulus, he promised his young 
champion, should go unharmed. 

The next day he sent for the young man, was 
pleased to find that he had a sufficient knowledge 
of the distinctions of his house, both legendary 
and heroic, and not ill content to discover that 
there was also much in which he could himself 
instruct him. The young Corinthian had to 
listen to a long and erudite lecture on the history 
of the House of Aeacus , 1 a small price, however, 
he felt, at which to purchase the favour of the 
Master of the World. 

When he had done sufficient homage to the 
past, Claudius condescended to deal with the 
affairs of the present. Had Eubulus any plans 
for the future ? where did he think of making his 
home ? “ I should not advise Rome,” the 

Emperor went on, not waiting for an answer to 
his question. “ There is too much faction, there 
are too many private interests. What do you 
say to Massilia ? 2 I would give the Empire to be 
of your age, and about to settle at the town 
that rivals, nay surpasses, Athens itself in cul- 

1 The grandfather of Achilles. 2 Marseilles. 

304 


Back to Rome 


ture and refinement. You are fond of books ? 
Yes, of course you are,” he went on, again not 
waiting for an answer. “ There you will find 
them in plenty, and men too, who love them for 
their own sake. Are you married ? ” 

Eubulus answered, not without a blush, that 
he was not, but hoped to be. Claudius thought, 
not without bitterness and self-reproach, of his 
own experiences of marriage. But he was not 
lost to better feelings, and it touched him to see 
this youth still full of the innocent hopes of a 
first love. 

“ The gods prosper you,” he cried. 

And to Massilia Eubulus went, and found there, 
in company, it need hardly be said, with Cleonice, 
a happy home. He became a true lover of books, 
but never a bookworm ; and it was his delight to 
exchange now and then the pleasures of his 
library for the sports which the rivers and forests of 
Gaul still supplied in abundance to the angler and 
the hunter. One charm of Massilia he never failed 
to appreciate, the succession of promising lads 
from Italy and the Roman provinces, who came 
to this University of the North. Of one such 
he made the acquaintance in the early days of 
his residence. This was Cnaeus Julius Agricola, the 
future conqueror of Britain, and Agricola was 
the first of a long line of studious youths, who 
305 u 


Back to Rome 


found in the friendship of Eubulus and Cleonice 
all the pleasures and safeguards of home. 

On one memorable occasion, however, Eubu- 
lus left his beloved retirement to fulfil what he 
could not but regard as a sacred duty. His old 
friends Aquila and Priscilla had given up their 
residence at Corinth, after giving the great 
teacher, Paul of Tarsus, shelter and companion- 
ship during his stay in that city. They had 
accompanied their guest to Ephesus, and there, 
it would seem, they had fixed their abode, 
though we know that they had paid one visit to 
Rome. Meanwhile they had kept up a corres- 
pondence with their adopted son, never failing to 
keep him acquainted with all that was going on 
in the sphere of their activity, and also with what 
was of still deeper interest both to him and to 
them, with the career of Paul. It was about 
fourteen years after the time at which this story 
opens when a letter from Aquila was put into 
the hands of Eubulus. A special messenger 
had brought it from Ephesus. It ran thus : 

“ Aquila and Priscilla to Eubulus, their brother 
in the Lord, greeting. 

“ Know that our beloved master is again in 
prison at Rome. From one cause or another 
he is alone. Some have left him by compulsion, 
some he has sent away on work that he deemed 
306 


Back to Rome 


too urgent to be neglected, one at least, whom 
he would have kept with him, has basely deserted 
him. It is, so far as we can see, between us and 
you who shall go to him. We fear that he would 
be ill-pleased if either of us were to leave this 
place where we have a special commission from 
him for the work of the Lord. Yet even this we 
will risk if you cannot fill our place. Consult, 
as you know how, Him who is the true Guide 
in all doubts and perplexities, and having re- 
ceived such answer as you may, send word by 
the bearer of this epistle. Farewell.” 

Eubulus did as his teacher bade him, and had 
no doubt about the answer which was vouch- 
safed to him. In the course of a few hours 
the messenger was on his way back to Ephesus 
with a few words of assent. The next day he 
started for Rome. 

What he saw and heard there it is not for me 
to tell. It is enough to say that his name stands 
first among the faithful few who had gathered 
round the great apostle when his pilgrimage was 
drawing to its close. He did not share the 
prisoner’s fate. He was kept to do more work for 
the Heavenly Master on earth. It may be that 
Nero remembered the romantic story of an 
earlier time, and when he sent the Apostle to 
suffer death on the Ostian road by the headsman’s 
307 


Back to Rome 


axe, sent back his companion to his home at 
Massilia. Here he disappears from our ken, but 
all his distinctions may well seem insignificant 
in comparison with this, that he was permitted 
to associate himself with the last messages of 
greeting sent by the Apostle of the Gentiles to 
his brethren in the faith. 


THE END 


308 


Note 

The story of Thekla has come down to us in a document 
entitled The Acts of Paul and Thekla. As we have it now it 
is probably much changed from its original form and contains 
many interpolations. It rests, however, there is very little 
reason to doubt, on a basis of fact, and may be supposed to 
date from the beginning of the second century, if not from an 
earlier time. It is not likely that a later writer would have 
been acquainted with some curious details which are to be found 
in the narrative. Queen Tryphaena was a real personage, the 
widow of a certain King Polemo, and was related to Claudius 
through the family of Marcus Antonius, the colleague and 
afterwards the rival of Augustus. This marks the date of 
the scene in the amphitheatre as having happened in the 
reign of Caligula or Claudius. No other of the Emperors 
were related to her. 


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